Columbia  Winibttfiitv 

STUDIES  IN  ENGLISH   AND   COMPARATIVE 
LITERATURE 


VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
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EDWARD  EVANS  &  SONS,  Ltd. 
30  North  Szechuen  Road 


VEEGIL 

AND 

THE  ENGLISH   POETS 


BY 

ELIZABETH  NITCHIE,  Ph.  D. 

Instructor  in  English  in  Goucher  Collegb 


ml 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  PRESS 
1919 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1919 
Bt  Colxtmbia  University  Press 


Printed  from  type,  April,  1919 


This  Monograph  has  been  approved  by  the  Department  of 
English  and  Comparative  Literature  in  Columbia  University 
OS  a  contribution  to  knowledge  worthy  of  publication. 

A.  H.  THORNDIKE, 

Executive  Officer 


/t  "7  n 


PREFACE 

This  book  has  grown  out  of  a  long-standing  interest  in 
the  classics  and  a  feeling  that  the  connection  between  the 
literature  of  Greece  and  Rome  and  that  of  England  is  too 
seldom  realized  and  too  seldom  stressed  by  the  lovers  and 
teachers  of  both.  As  Sir  Gilbert  Murray  has  said  in  his 
recent  presidential  address  to  the  Classical  Association  of 
England,  The  Religion  of  a  Man  of  Letters,  ^^  Paradise  Lost 
and  Prometheus  Unbound  are  .  .  .  the  children  of  Vergil 
and  Homer,  of  Aeschylus  and  Plato.  .  .  .  Let  us  admit 
that  there  must  of  necessity  be  in  all  English  literature  a 
strain  of  what  one  may  call  vernacular  English  thought. 
...  It  remains  true  that  from  the  Renaissance  onward,  nay, 
from  Chaucer  and  even  from  Alfred,  the  higher  and  more 
massive  workings  of  our  literature  owe  more  to  the  Greeks 
and  Romans  than  to  our  own  un-Romanized  ancestors." 

Vergil  has  probably  exerted  more  influence  upon  the 
literature  of  England  throughout  its  whole  course  and  in 
all  its  branches  than  any  other  Roman  poet.  At  certain 
periods  Horace  has  taken  precedence  over  him,  and  at 
other  periods,  Ovid;  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  influ- 
ence of  either  has  been  as  far-reaching  or  as  varied  as  that 
of  Vergil.  A  discussion  of  his  influence  upon  the  English 
poets,  therefore,  will  serve  as  an  illustration  of  that  continuity 
of  literature,  that  traditio,  of  which  Sir  Gilbert  Murray  speaks. 

I  wish  to  thank  those  members  of  the  EngUsh  Depart- 
ment of  Columbia  University  who,  by  their  advice  and  aid, 
have  made  this  book  possible.  I  wish  to  express  my  appre- 
ciation especially  of  the  unfailing  kindness  of  Professor  A.  H. 

vii 


VlU  PREFACE 

Thoradike,  who  has  read  the  book  in  manuscript  and  proof, 
and  has  given  me  much  valuable  help.  Professor  William 
Peterfield  Trent  also  has  read  it  in  manuscript  and  has 
given  me  constant  assistance.  Many  helpful  suggestions 
and  criticisms,  especially  on  the  earlier  portions,  have  come 
from  Professor  H.  M.  Ayres.  To  Professor  Nelson  Glenn 
McCrea  of  the  Department  of  Classical  Philology  is  due 
the  initial  suggestion  of  the  subject.  He  has  never  failed, 
while  I  have  been  working  on  the  book,  to  give  me  encour- 
agement and  advice,  and  his  interpretation  of  the  work  of 
Vergil  has  been  a  constant  source  of  inspiration. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGOB 

I.    Introduction 1 

II.    The  Mediaeval  Tradition 13 

III.  Chaucer,  His  Contemporaries  and  his  Imitators     .  39 

IV.  Vergil  and  Humanism 66 

V.    Spenser  and  the  English  Renaissance 92 

VI.    Milton  and  the  Classical  Epic 124 

VII.     Dryden  and  Pope 148 

VIII.    Thomson  and  the  Didactic  Poets 179 

IX.    Landor  and  the  Romanticists 197 

X.    Tennyson  and  the  Victorians 212 

Bibliography 235 

I.    Books  of  Reference 235 

II.    List    of  Translations,  Burlesques,  Parodies,  and 

Imitations 236 

Index 245 


VEEGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH 
POETS 

CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCTION 

From  the  days  when  Valerius  Flaccus  and  Silius  Italicus 
wrote  epics  in  imitation  of  the  Aeneid,  and  Columella  com- 
posed a  verse  treatise  on  horticulture  after  the  manner  of 
the  Georgics,  and  Calpumius  Siculus  copied  the  VergiUan 
style  and  subject-matter  in  his  EclogiLeSf  the  influence  of 
Vergil  upon  the  Uterature  of  the  world  has  been  a  constant 
force.  Even  in  this  practical,  scientific  twentieth  century, 
a  newspaper  editor  refers  to  his  Eclogues  in  the  heat  of  a 
poUtical  campaign,  the  echo  of  a  half-forgotten  passage 
learned  in  school-days  comes  back  to  a  soldier  in  the  trenches, 
an  epic  poem  on  the  Volsung  story  is  modeled  on  the  struc- 
ture of  the  Aeneid  J  and  the  poet-laureate  of  England  publishes 
a  cento  of  translations  of  a  brief  passage  in  the  sixth  book, 
with  a  version  of  his  own. 

It  was  to  the  sheer  force  of  his  genius  that  Vergil  owed  his 
long  popularity.  Neither  his  personaUty  nor  his  life  would 
have  had  sufficient  appeal  or  interest  to  push  forward 
works  that  were  not  of  the  highest  merit.  Shy  and  modest 
to  such  a  degree  that  he  earned  the  pimning  nickname  of 
the  Maiden  (Virgo),  this  retiring  idealist  gave  on  his  death- 
bed the  conmiand  that  the  Aeneid  should  be  burnt.  Nor 
did  his  career  have  the  historical  importance  of  a  Caesar 
or  the  romantic  interest  of  an  Ovid.     His  was  a  singularly 

1 


2  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

uneventful  life,  as  far  as  we  know  it.  He  was  bom  in  the 
little  village  of  Andes  near  Mantua  in  the  year  70  b.c. 
His  father  was  a  small  freeholder,  tilling  his  own  fields  and 
raising  timber  and  bees.  Here  Vergil  gained  the  knowl- 
edge which  he  afterwards  turned  so  wonderfully  to  accoimt 
in  the  Georgics.  He  had,  however,  the  best  education  pos- 
sible, first  at  Cremona,  then  at  Milan,  and  finally  at  Rome 
itself,  where  he  studied  rhetoric  and  philosophy.  In  the 
confiscation  of  land  after  the  battle  of  Philippi,  Vergil,  whose 
father  had  meanwhile  died,  lost  his  Httle  estate,  but  through 
the  friendship  of  PolUo,  Gallus,  and  Varus,  he  was  given  in 
compensation  land  in  Campania,  and  was  introduced  to 
Octavianus.  About  this  time,  Vergil  published  his  Eclogues^ 
which  immediately  made  a  stir  in  the  hterary  world,  as  the 
beginning  of  a  new  type  of  poetry  in  Rome,  and  the  promise 
of  future  greatness  in  the  author  himself.  Outwardly  they 
are  imitations  of  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus,  and  they  are 
cast  in  the  conventional  forms  of  the  dialogue  between 
two  shepherds,  the  song-contest  in  alternate  verse  with  a 
lamb  or  a  graven  bowl  as  the  stake,  the  complaint  of  the 
lover  over  the  hardheartedness  or  the  faithlessness  of  his 
mistress,  and  the  lament  for  a  comrade  who  has  died.  Into 
this  pastoral  form  Vergil  has  woven  some  personal  allegory, 
in  reference  to  the  loss  of  his  estate,  the  death  of  Julius 
Caesar,  and  the  misfortimes  of  his  friend  Gallus.  The  ten 
poems  are  marked  by  a  certain  artificiality  which  is  a  fre- 
quent characteristic  of  imitative  and  allegorical  poetry, 
and  the  execution  shows  the  hand  of  a  beginner,  but  of  a 
beginner  of  great  things.  For  the  promise  of  the  charm  of 
Vergil's  later  poems  is  here,  especially  in  the  golden  hght 
of  the  fourth  Edogue  and  the  romantic  atmosphere  of  the 
story  of  the  deserted  Gallus. 

With  the  publication  of  the  Georgics  in  29  b.c,  Vergil  took 
his  place  at  the  head  of  Latin  literature.    Their  beauty  has 


INTRODUCTION  3 

perhaps  been  obscured  by  the  greater  glory  of  the  Aeneid. 
But  Vergil  never  proved  himseK  so  surely  a  *'lord  of  lan- 
guage" as  he  did  in  dealing  with  the  unpromising  subjects 
of  *'  tilth  and  vineyard,  hive  and  horse  and  herd,"  and  to 
demonstrate  it  one  has  only  to  turn  to  him  from  the  awk- 
ward dullness  of  The  Fleece  or  The  Chase.  Lucretius  put  his 
philosophical  teaching  into  poetry,  for  he  said  he  must 
smear  the  lip  of  the  cup  with  honey,  that  the  bitter  but 
beneficial  dose  within  it  might  be  made  acceptable.  So 
Vergil,  commissioned  by  Augustus  to  revive  in  the  hearts 
of  the  Romans  a  love  for  agriculture,  put  the  precepts  of 
husbandry  into  verse  which  he  had  time  to  bring  as  near 
perfection  as  possible.  With  a  background  of  the  beauty 
of  Italy  and  the  charm  of  the  country,  he  laid  the  emphasis 
on  the  necessity  of  imending  labor  and  on  its  sure  reward 
in  actual  production  and  in  the  strengthening  of  character 
as  well  as  of  body  —  a  real  Gospel  of  Work. 

The  splendid  digression  in  the  second  book  of  the  Georgics 
on  the  glory  of  Italy,  with  its  closing  apostrophe  to  the 
"mighty  mother  of  heroes,"  strikes  the  note  of  Vergil's 
last  and  greatest  work.  The  Aeneid,  begun  shortly  after  the 
publication  of  the  Georgics,  occupied  the  poet's  time  until 
his  death  in  19  B.C.,  and  yet  he  did  not  consider  it  finished. 
It  embodied  the  best  that  was  in  him,  his  passionate  love 
for  his  country,  his  veneration  for  his  emperor,  his  broodings 
over  the  significance  and  purposes  of  human  life.  It  inevi- 
tably challenged  comparison  with  the  great  epics  of  Greece, 
and  incurred  the  criticism  of  being  a  mere  imitation. 
Imitative  it  indubitably  is  in  mere  externals;  but  the 
marvel  is  that  from  materials  and  framework  originally 
Greek,  Vergil  has  wrought  a  poem  shot  through  and 
through  with  Roman  feeling.  Each  suggestion  from  the 
Iliad  or  the  Odyssey  is  reworked  with  the  central  pur- 
pose of  impressing  upon  the  Roman  reader  the  grandeur 


4  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  the  Rome  that  had  been  and  the  opportunity  to  make 
the  Rome  of  the  future,  built  on  the  soHd  foundation  of  her 
history,  even  more  glorious.  So  the  catalogue  of  the  Italian 
forces  in  the  seventh  book  is  bound  to  the  story  by  the 
element  of  national  pride  in  these  ancestors  of  the  later 
Roman  famihes;  the  pictures  on  the  shield  of  Aeneas 
are  not  of  a  general  character  like  those  on  the  shield  of 
Achilles,  but  tell  the  story  of  the  growth  of  the  Roman 
people;  the  episode  of  Dido  is  not  a  mere  copy  of  the  ad- 
ventures of  Ulysses  in  the  land  of  the  Phaeacians,  but  is 
connected  vitally  with  the  Punic  Wars  of  later  years;  the 
visit  to  the  Underworld  gives  an  opportunity  for  the  proph- 
ecy by  Anchises  to  his  son  of  the  future  glories  of  the 
Roman  race.  Many  an  episode,  such  as  the  landing  at 
Actium  and  the  celebration  of  the  funeral  games  at  Acesta, 
was  designed  to  set  the  chords  of  patriotism  vibrating,  by 
reminding  its  readers  of  some  event  in  Roman  history. 
And  to  the  men  of  the  Augustan  age,  Roman  history  had 
culminated  in  the  reign  of  Octavianus,  and  everything  in 
the  poem  tends  to  a  glorification  of  the  Julian  gens.  The 
name  of  the  boy  lulus  is  a  perpetual  reminder  that  Aeneas, 
the  representative  of  Rome,  was  the  real  founder  of  the 
family  to  which  the  great  names  of  Caesar  and  Augustus, 
so  highly  lauded  in  the  sixth  book,  had  brought  honor  and 
renown. 

This  national  appeal  is  the  real  message  of  the  Aeneidj 
and  yet  we  who  are  not  Romans  can  find  in  it  something 
which  still  speaks  to  us  after  nineteen  centuries..  It  is  not 
only  the  plea  for  a  higher  patriotism.  It  is  the  expression 
of  the  tenderness  of  a  great  spirit,  brooding  over  the  cost 
of  human  life  and  the  horrors  of  struggle  and  warfare,  longing 
for  the  time  of  a  perpetual  pax  Romana;  the  expression  of 
his  sense  of  the  pathos  of  existence  epitomized  in  the  oft- 
quoted  lacrimae  rerurriy  and  also  of  his  assurance  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  5 

continual  presence  of  a  Deity  who  is  a  pervading  and  guiding 
force.  This  is  the  true  Vergilian  charm,  which  both  attracts 
and  puzzles  one  who  is  seeking  a  definition  of  it. 

But  throughout  the  centuries  it  has  been  the  story  of  the 
Aeneid  that  has  appealed  to  readers  and  writers,  rather  than 
any  philosophical  aspect  of  the  poem.  The  construction 
of  the  Aeneid  is  a  thing  to  be  reckoned  with.  Not  only  have 
the  adventures  of  Aeneas  and  the  tragic  fortunes  of  Dido 
won  the  interest  and  sympathy  of  many  a  man  and  woman, 
but  the  structure  of  the  poem  has  served  as  a  model  for 
epic  poetry  from  that  time  to  this.  While  Vergil  cannot 
approach  Ovid  as  a  mere  story-teller,  the  dramatic  force  of 
single  episodes  and  the  unity  of  the  entire  narrative  are 
remarkable.  While  the  story  cannot  begin  and  end  in  the 
same  place  as  does  that  of  the  Odyssey,  the  thought  of  Italy 
is  always  before  the  Trojans,  and  Troy  and  Italy  are  in 
reality  no  farther  separated  than  are  their  names  in  the 
first  two  lines  of  the  poem: 

Arma  virumque  cano  Troiae  qui  primus  ab  oris 
Italiam  fato  profugus  Laviniaque  venit 
litora. 

The  story  is  a  fairly  simple  one.  Aeneas  and  his  com- 
rades, fleeing  from  Troy,  are  still  pursued  by  the  hatred  of 
Juno.  They  are  shipwrecked  in  a  storm  which  she  has 
caused,  and  land  on  the  shores  of  Africa.  They  are  kindly 
received  by  Dido,  queen  of  the  new  city  of  Carthage.  At 
a  feast  given  in  their  honor,  Aeneas  tells  the  queen  the  whole 
story  of  the  last  night  of  Troy,  in  a  most  dramatic  narrative, 
which  perhaps  owes  something  to  Euripides.  He  also 
relates  his  wanderings  up  to  the  time  of  his  arrival  at  Car- 
thage. Meanwhile  Venus  has  inspired  Dido  with  a  violent 
love  for  Aeneas,  which  he  returns,  but  at  the  command  of 
the  gods  and  the  summons  of  his  higher  destiny,  he  leaves 


6  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

her  and  proceeds  upon  his  way  to  Italy,  whereupon  she 
dies  by  her  own  hand.  No  summary  can  give  even  a  hint 
of  the  dramatic  power  of  the  second  and  fourth  books, 
which  tell  of  the  fall  of  Troy  and  the  death  of  Dido,  and 
which  have  been  the  most  read  and  best  loved  of  all  the 
twelve.  Aeneas  stops  at  Sicily  and  holds  games  in  memory 
of  his  father,  who  had  died  there  the  year  before.  He  then 
proceeds  to  Italy,  and  at  the  command  of  the  gods,  visits 
the  Underworld,  where  he  sees  his  father  and  learns  from 
him  the  future  glory  of  his  people.  Advancing  to  the 
vicinity  of  the  future  city  of  Rome,  he  makes  a  treaty  with 
Latinus,  king  of  the  country,  for  the  hand  of  his  daughter, 
Lavinia.  A  feud  breaks  out,  however,  between  the  two 
nations,  stirred  up  by  the  Fury  AUecto  at  the  command  of 
Juno,  and  Turnus,  Lavinia^s  former  betrothed,  joins  the  op- 
ponents of  the  Trojans.  There  follows  a  more  or  less 
uninteresting  series  of  battles,  with  varying  fortunes,  en- 
livened by  the  episode  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  two  friends 
who  make  a  night  raid  upon  the  enemy,  and  by  the  story  of 
Camilla,  the  maiden  warrior.  The  war  is  finally  settled 
by  a  single  combat  between  Turnus  and  Aeneas,  in  which 
the  former  is  killed  and  the  Trojan  wins  both  bride  and 
kingdom. 

Vergil's  mastery  of  the  hexameter  has  never  been  ques- 
tioned. It  was  a  great  achievement  to  bring  the  stubborn 
Latin  language,  with  its  essentially  iambic  rhythm,  into 
subjection  to  a  meter  made  up  of  dactyls  and  spondees. 
The  work  had  been  begun  by  Ennius  and  Lucretius,  and 
was  brought  to  its  full  perfection  by  Vergil,  a  perfection 
which  has  never  since  been  equaled.  And  to  many  an 
English  reader,  especially  in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth 
centuries,  this  perfection  of  the  hexameter,  added  to  Vergil's 
positive  genius  for  finding  the  right  words,  has  appealed  as 
his  greatest  beauty.    The  liquid  smoothness  of  the  Eclogues^ 


INTRODUCTION  7 

the  finished  charm  of  the  Georgics,  and  the  stately  harmonies 
and  rhythms  of  the  Aeneid  have  kept  for  Vergil  his  place 
as  the  greatest  of  Latin  poets,  even  when  his  story  has 
temporarily  lost  its  interest  or  his  deeper  thoughtfulness 
has  not  been  understood.  And  when  these  other  qualities 
have  been  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  his  critics,  there  has 
rarely,  if  ever,  except  in  the  uncritical  periods  of  literature, 
been  a  failure  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  his  marvelous 
power  of  expression  is  the  chief  factor  in  his  preeminence 
as  a  story-teller  and  as  a  philosopher. 

The  great  variety  of  Vergil's  poetic  powers  has  given  him 
an  appeal  to  men  engaged  in  all  branches  of  literature.  The 
dramatic  qualities  of  the  scenes  in  the  second  and  fourth 
books  of  the  Aeneid  have  made  the  fall  of  Troy  and  the 
death  of  Dido  favorite  subjects  for  dramatic  representation; 
the  oratorical  power  of  his  great  speeches  gave  him  a  prestige 
in  the  schools  of  the  Empire  and  of  the  Middle  Ages,  endeared 
him  to  men  like  Bossuet  and  Burke,  and  have  made  him  an 
"orator's  poet."  The  descriptive  powers  by  which  he  is 
enabled  to  convey  not  only  the  appearance  of  a  scene,  but 
also  the  idea  of  horror,  of  weariness,  of  pathos,  of  awe  and 
mystery  which  underlies  the  mere  outward  semblance  of 
the  death  of  Priam,  of  the  despair  of  the  Trojan  women  in 
Sicily,  of  the  death  of  Pallas,  or  of  the  vision  of  awful  faces 
on  the  night  of  Troy's  downfall,  have  been  the  admiration 
and  despair  of  many  an  imitator  and  translator.  The 
music  of  the  verse  of  the  Eclogues,  the  perfect  smoothness 
of  the  Georgics,  made  him  the  model  for  English  poetry  in 
its  Augustan  period;  and  the  compactness  of  phrase  and 
the  varied  harmonies  of  the  Aeneid  have  influenced  masters 
of  rhythm  like  Milton  and  Tennyson. 

But  the  subject  of  this  book  is  not  Vergil  as  he  was,  or 
even  as  modern  critics  and  scholars  think  he  was,  but  Vergil 


8  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

as  he  appeared  to  and  influenced  the  makers  of  English 
Uterature  throughout  its  history.  Its  aim  is  to  trace  the 
changes  in  the  reaction  to  his  poetry  in  the  different  periods 
of  EngUsh  Uterature,  and  to  study  his  influence  especially 
on  the  representative  poets  of  England  under  the  varying 
conditions  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  Renaissance,  Pseudo- 
classicism,  and  Romanticism.  The  prose,  which  naturally 
shows  less  influence  than  the  poetry,  has  been  treated  only 
incidentally,  all  the  body  of  pseudo-classic  criticism,  for 
instance,  being  considered  very  briefly,  simply  in  order  to 
form  a  background  for  pseudo-classic  poetry. 

The  Middle  Ages,  with  innate  respect  for  **  authority,'* 
regarded  Vergil  with  all  reverence  not  only  as  a  great  poet, 
but  also  as  a  writer  of  a  volume  that  might  be  used  as  a 
text-book  for  granmiar  and  rhetoric.  While  the  ecclesiastics 
attacked  him  on  the  ground  of  pernicious  doctrines,  others 
regarded  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  of  moral  teachers,  and 
even  as  a  prophet  of  Christ  and  a  propounder  of  Christian 
principles.  Again,  the  spirit  of  romance  laid  hands  upon 
him,  and  made  of  him  a  worker  of  magic  and  of  his  Aeneas 
the  hero  of  a  tale  of  chivalry.  So  this  many-sided  Vergil, 
most  of  whose  characteristics  were  wholly  the  creation  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  served  the  turn  of  every  man,  cleric  or 
layman,  the  scholar  who  wished  illustrative  examples  for 
his  treatise  on  grammar  or  metrics,  the  poet  who  was  looking 
for  a  model  for  his  Latin  hexameters,  or  the  courtier  who 
was  searching  for  marvelous  stories  with  which  to  entertain 
his  emperor. 

Chaucer  inherited  much  of  this  mediaeval  tradition,  es- 
pecially the  desire  to  make  of  the  Aeneid  a  chivalric  romance. 
The  sympathies  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  been  chiefly  with 
the  deserted  Dido,  and  Chaucer  too  treated  her  as  one 
of  the  "saints  of  Cupid,"  a  true  sister  of  Ariadne.  But 
Chaucer  was  ahead  of  many  of  his  contemporaries  in  his 


INTRODUCTION  9 

actual  first-hand  knowledge  of  the  Aeneid.  While  he  did 
not  display  the  perspicuity  of  a  Gavin  Douglas  in  seeing 
Vergil^s  purpose  in  writing  the  story  of  Aeneas  and  Dido, 
neither  did  he  accept  the  charge  of  Dares  Phrygius  that 
Aeneas  was  a  traitor  to  his  country,  nor  did  he  admit  such 
distortions  in  his  story  as  did  Caxton,  a  century  later.  He 
had  included  Vergil  in  his  reading,  unusually  wide  for  his 
times,  and  his  error  was  due  to  misplaced  emphasis  and 
biased  judgment  and  not  to  ignorance. 

In  the  full  Renaissance,  such  errors  as  those  of  Caxton 
were  no  longer  possible.  The  spread  of  humanistic  learning 
had  brought  Vergil  into  the  curriculum  of  school  and  uni- 
versity, and  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  any  of  the 
sixteenth-century  translators  to  hpA^e  believed  that  he  was 
rendering  the  Aeneid  into  English  when  he  was  working  on 
the  Eneydes.  The  new  appreciation  of  Vergil  shown  by 
the  writers  of  the  Renaissance  on  the  continent,  by  Petrarch 
and  his  followers  in  Italy  and  France,  was  reflected  later 
in  the  poetry  and  criticism  of  England.  The  sixteenth  cen- 
tury was  a  period  of  the  development  of  the  pastoral  and 
of  the  growth  of  the  Renaissance  principles  of  criticism,  which 
have  been  formulated  into  a  creed  by  a  modern  critic,  the 
main  tenet  of  which  is,  "Taking  things  on  the  whole,  'the 
ancients'  have  anticipated  almost  everything,  and  in  every- 
thing that  they  have  anticipated  have  done  so  well  that 
the  best  chance  of  success  is  simply  to  imitate  them."  To 
this  creed  subscribed  Spenser  and  his  contemporaries,  often 
limiting  "the  ancients"  to  little  more  than  Vergil,  both 
in  connection  with  the  pastoral,  and,  more  especially,  in 
relation  to  the  epic,  although  each  is  tinged  with  the  influ- 
ence of  Renaissance  models  as  well. 

The  seventeenth  century  is  a  period  of  transition,  in 
which  the  chief  tendency  showing  the  influence  of  Vergil 
is  the  development  of  the  classical  epic,  under  the  influence 


10  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  the  rules  of  Aristotle  and  Boileau  in  respect  to  fonn,  and 
the  interest  in  history  and  the  study  of  the  Bible  in  subject- 
matter.  Towering  over  all  the  little  men  who  tried  to 
compose  epics  was  the  giant  Milton,  to  whose  scholarly  ap- 
preciation of  classic  models  was  united  a  supreme  poetic 
genius. 

With  the  development  of  the  pseudo-classic  theory  and 
practice  during  the  seventeenth  and  early  eighteenth  cen- 
turies, the  emphasis  came  to  be  placed  more  and  more  on 
the  form  and  style  of  hterary  production.  It  was  an  age 
of  translation  and  imitation,  and  the  two  greatest  names  in 
the  poetry  of  this  period  were  those  of  Dryden  and  Pope. 
It  was  natural  that  Pope  should  admire  the  sweetness  of 
versification  of  the  Eclogues  of  Vergil,  and  that  he  and  his 
followers  should  try  to  emulate  it  by  imitating  the  frame- 
work of  the  poems  and  copying  their  phraseology,  and  giving 
to  their  work  the  same  careful  polish  that  Vergil  was  reported 
to  have  bestowed  upon  his  lines.  The  easiest  way  to  analyze 
the  influence  of  Vergil,  is  to  consider  its  effect  upon  the 
various  poetic  genres.  The  other  characteristic  Hterary  forms 
of  the  century  besides  the  pastoral  were  satire  and  didactic 
poetry,  and  as  the  former  usually  took  the  form  of  the 
mock-epic,  it  afforded  further  opportunity  for  VergiUan 
imitation.  When  the  didactic  poetry  concerned  itself  with 
the  country  and  the  occupations  of  the  farmer,  it  naturally 
turned  to  the  Georgics  of  Vergil  for  a  model.  The  greatest 
of  the  didactic  poets  was  James  Thomson,  who  appreciated 
not  only  Vergil's  practical  wisdom,  but  his  love  of  nature 
and  his  powers  of  description,  and  combined  them  in  the 
Seasons,  a  poem  which  had  an  astonishing  and  long-con- 
tinued influence  both  at  home  and  abroad. 

There  was  little  real  understanding  of  the  actual  spirit 
and  purpose  of  Vergil  until  the  nineteenth  century,  when 
the  historical  method  came  to  be  used  in  criticism,  and 


INTRODUCTION  11 

students  of  the  Latin  poet  endeavored  to  place  him  in  his 
environment  and  determine  its  effect  on  him  and  his  influence 
on  it.  But  in  the  Romantic  period,  criticism  was  too  much 
a  matter  of  personal  likes  and  dislikes  to  apply  the  historical 
method  with  impartiality.  The  searcher  after  truth  was 
too  prone  to  approach  a  writer  with  a  preconceived  idea  of 
what  he  ought  to  find  there,  and  then  find  it.  And  in  this 
time  of  zeal  for  the  spontaneous,  the  unstudied,  and  the 
subjective,  Vergil  fared  badly  and  exerted  little  influence 
on  English  poetry,  for  he  was  generally  condemned  by  the 
one  word  "artificial.'*  Landor,  although  he  imitated  Vergil 
and  greatly  admired  certain  portions  of  his  work,  was 
moved  by  this  romantic  spirit  of  individual  criticism,  and 
denounced  other  parts  of  his  poetry,  such  as  Aeneas'  parting 
words  to  Dido,  as  frigid,  stiff,  in  short,  artificial. 

But  as  the  century  went  on,  the  growth  of  scholarly  in- 
terest in  Vergil  and  real  knowledge  of  his  place  in  history 
and  the  purpose  of  his  work,  brought  about  a  change  in  the 
attitude  of  literary  men.  They  still  applied  the  test  of  per- 
sonal preference,  but  although  they  might  prefer  some  other 
poet  to  Vergil,  they  did  not  banish  him  altogether,  and  he 
had  a  recognizable  influence  on  many  of  the  poets  of  the 
period  to  a  greater  or  less  degree.  None  of  them  seems  to 
have  understood  or  loved  Vergil  as  did  Tennyson,  and  cer- 
tainly on  none  of  them  did  he  have  a  greater  influence. 
Tennyspn  is  the  last  of  our  poets  to  have  absorbed  his  Vergil 
so  thoroughly  that  the  Latin^oeLhaa^be^cpme^jpart^of^ 
life  and  thoughfT  As  the  horizon  of  men  of  letters  has 
steadriy~br6adened,  and  new  interests  and  problems  have 
taken  their  attention,  inevitably  the  influence  of  Vergil 
as  of  all  the  classics  upon  English  poetry  has  decreased. 
In  the  nineteenth  century  it  is  necessary  to  confine  the 
treatment  largely  to  certain  men  who  represent  the  sym- 
pathy or  reaction  of  an  individual  spirit  toward  the  genius 


12  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  the  Roman  poet.  Incidental  echoes  in  the  work  of  other 
men  are  of  httle  significance,  and  consequently  call  for  but 
brief  discussion. 

It  is  difficult  to  prevent  a  book  of  this  kind  from  falling 
into  a  mere  list  of  parallel  passages  from  Vergil  and  the 
English  poets.  A  certain  amount  of  quotation  is  necessary, 
however,  to  show  the  extent  of  any  poet's  use  of  VergiHan 
material,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  adapted  or  assimilated 
it.  But  in  recording  the  similarities,  I  trust  I  have  avoided 
the  pitfall  yawning  before  all  commentators,  that  of  carry- 
ing the  analysis  of  indebtedness  to  Vergil  too  far,  so  that 
it  verges  on  absurdity.  I  hope  I  have  avoided  offending 
the  manes  of  Tennyson  and  moving  the  shade  of  Landor 
to  sarcastic  laughter.  It  was  Landor  who  thus  ridiculed 
the  attempts  of  critics  to  find  echoes  of  the  classics  in  the 
most  unlikely  places.  In  his  Citation  of  William  Shakespeare 
he  writes,  ''Master  Silas  did  interrupt  this  discourse  by 
saying,  'May  it  please  your  worship,  the  constable  is  wait- 
ing.' Whereat  Sir  Thomas  said  tartly,  'And  let  him  wait,'" 
to  which  the  "Editor"  has  appended  the  following  footnote: 
"It  has  been  suggested  that  this  answer  was  borrowed  from 
Vergil,  and  goes  strongly  against  the  genuineness  of  the 
manuscript.  The  editor's  memory  was  upon  the  stretch  to 
recollect  the  words:  the  learned  critic  supphed  them: 
'  "Solum  Aeneas  vocat."  et  vocet  oroJ  The  editor  could 
only  reply,  indeed  weakly,  that  calling  and  waiting  are  not 
exactly  the  same,  unless  when  tradesmen  rap  and  gentle- 
men are  leaving  town." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION 

The  Vergilian  tradition  was  unbroken  by  temporary 
loss  of  his  works  or  diminution  in  his  popularity.  Through- 
out the  Middle  Ages,  his  poems  and  his  personality  were 
powerful  factors  in  the  intellectual  life  of  the  times.  As 
poet,  rhetorician  and  grammarian,  as  moralist,  prophet, 
writer  of  romance  and  magician,  he  played  a  prominent 
part  in  the  thought  of  all  ranks  of  men,  from  the  scholar 
to  the  peasant.^  It  was  Chaucer,  inheriting  all  the  gath- 
ered reverence  of  fourteen  centuries,  who  wrote, 

Glory  and  honour,  Virgil  Mantuan, 
Be  to  thy  name!  and  I  shal,  as  I  can, 
Folow  thy  lantern,  as  thou  gost  biforn.* 

Some,  like  Dante  and  Chaucer  himself,  did  follow,  with 
only  a  few  deviations  from  the  straight  path,  but  it  must  be 
admitted  that  other  eager  spirits  seized  the  lantern  from 
the  hand  of  their  guide,  and  ran  into  all  sorts  of  curious 
byways  and  blind  alleys,  drawing  Vergil  after  them. 

The  role  which  Vergil  plays  today  as  the  greatest  of  Latin 
poets  was  not  his  most  important  part  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
With  the  decline  of  literature  which  came  in  the  third  and 
fourth  centuries,  the  influence  of  his  works  as  poems  became 
a  matter  of  externals  only.     The  form  and  style  and  subject- 

^  In  this  first  portion  of  the  chapter  I  am  following  the  well-known 
discussion  in  Vergil  in  the  Middle  Ages,  by  Domenico  Comparetti. 
*  Legend  of  Good  Women:   Dido.     1-3. 

13 


14  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

matter  continued  to  serve  as  models  for  much  of  the  mediae- 
val Latin  poetry,  both  pagan  and  Christian,^  but  the 
spirit  of  the  master  had  vanished,  or  was  too  much  obscured 
by  the  mists  of  grammar  and  rhetoric  which  surrounded  him 
to  be  caught  by  any  of  his  imitators,  even  those  nearest  him 
in  time.  A  gleam  of  true  poetic  appreciation  was  visible 
here  and  there,  but  mostly  in  the  churchmen  who  confessed 
to  a  worldly  love  for  the  Aeneid  which  enticed  them  from 
their  spiritual  duties.  The  popularity  of  the  story  of  Dido 
never  waned,  and  it  furnished  the  subject  for  numerous 
stage  representations,  even  in  the  days  of  the  Roman  em- 
perors and  also  later  in  the  Renaissance,  and  for  tapes- 
tries and  pictures.  Yet  one  of  the  chief  occupations  of  the 
men  who  studied  and  knew  the  poems,  was  the  making  of 
centos,  whereby  Vergil  became  the  mouthpiece  of  senti- 
ments by  no  means  his  own,  and  the  author  of  a  tragedy  of 
Medea  or  an  epitome  of  the  Old  Testament. 

Dante,  of  course,  is  the  great  exception  to  all  this,  for 
while  his  conception  of  Vergil  is  in  some  respects  based  on 
the  mediaeval  ideas,  it  is  lifted  far  above  them  by  his  poetic 
sympathy  and  admiration  for  the  Aeneid.  He  is  like  the 
mediaeval  monk  in  his  tendency  to  allegorize,  and  in  his 
belief  in  the  omniscience  of  Vergil,  but  the  poet  nowhere 
appears  in  the  Divina  Commedia  as  a  magician,  and  though 
he  is  a  Christian  in  the  poem,  it  is  because  he  has  gained 
since  death  the  knowledge  that  the  gods  he  worshipped  in 
life  were  false  gods,  and  the  truth  is  to  be  found  only  in 
Christianity.  Dante  says  that  Vergil  is  his  favorite  poet, 
and  his  constant  use  of  echoes  from  the  Latin  proves  the 
fact.    Yet  he  is  no  servile  imitator  of  Vergil.    He  brings 

»  The  most  prominent  example  is  the  WaUharius,  a  Latin  poem  of 
the  tenth  century,  by  Ekkehard,  a  monk  of  St.  Gall.  See  Zappert, 
Virgih  ForUehen  im  MittelaUer,  for  a  collection  of  Vergilian  echoes  in 
mediaeval  poetry,  in  Latin  and  in  the  vernaculars. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  15 

to  him  the  sympathy  of  one  great  poet  for  another,  and 
becomes  his  interpreter  rather  than  his  imitator.  Dante, 
whose  patriotism  was  the  ruling  passion  of  his  life,  recognized 
no  break  between  the  history  of  Rome  and  that  of  Italy, 
and  looked  upon  the  Aeneid  as  the  great  national  poem  of 
his  country.  His  conception  of  Vergil  as  essentially  a  na- 
tional poet  was  an  important  factor  in  his  sympathy  for  the 
author  of  the  epic  of  Italy.  It  was,  then,  no  mere  accident, 
and  no  mere  compliance  with  the  mediaeval  veneration  for 
Vergil  which  made  Dante  choose  him  for  a  guide.  The 
choice  was  based  upon  a  love  of  Vergil  which  was  a  funda- 
mental part  of  his  nature.  It  has  been  said  that  to  Dante 
Vergil  symbolized  the  imperial  ideal,  but  even  though  he  was 
so  allegorized,  he  is  at  the  same  time  a  living  figure  in  the 
poem,  a  real  personality,  if  not  the  true  Augustan  Vergil,  yet 
something  nearer  to  it  than  the  Vergil  of  the  mediaeval 
clergy.  In  this  poetic  appreciation  of  the  work  and  per- 
sonality of  Vergil,  Dante  showed  himself  a  precursor  of  the 
Renaissance. 

Vergil's  popularity  among  the  grammarians  began  early. 
Suetonius  says  that  Q.  Caecilius  Epirota,  a  freedman  of  At- 
ticus,  was  the  first  to  use  his  poems  as  textbooks  of  gram- 
mar in  his  school,  and  by  the  time  of  Nero,  Seneca  could  say, 
"Grammaticus  futurus  Vergilium  scrutatur."  His  aptness 
of  phrase  delighted  the  grammarians,  and  they  adopted  more 
illustrations  from  his  poetry  than  from  the  works  of  any 
other  Latin  writer.  So  copious  are  the  quotations  in  the 
textbooks  of  Nonius,  Priscian,  and  Donatus,  that,  accord- 
ing to  Comparetti,  it  would  be  possible  to  reconstruct  from 
them  practically  the  whole  of  the  Eclogues,  Georgics,  and 
Aeneid,  if  the  manuscripts  of  Vergil  had  all  been  lost.  It 
is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  a  grammarian  of  the  seventh 
century  should  adopt  as  his  most  natural  title,  the  name, 
PubUus  Vergilius  Maro. 


16  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

As  a  rhetorician,  too,  Vergil's  reputation  began  soon  after 
his  own  time.  Arellius  Fuscus,  an  orator  and  friend  of  the 
elder  Seneca,  freely  adapted  Vergil  in  his  speeches.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  second  century,  Annius  Florus  dis- 
cussed what  had  become  a  popular  question  in  his  treatise 
entitled  Vergiliiis  orator  an  poeta.  The  rhetoricians  formed 
their  rules  according  to  his  practice,  and  later  Macrobius 
praised  Vergil  for  having  observed  the  rules  of  rhetoric. 
The  pupils  of  the  schools  throughout  the  Middle  Ages  made 
such  extensive  use  of  the  poems  of  Vergil  as  textbooks,  that 
it  is  natural  that  he  should  have  become  for  them  the  high- 
est type  of  grammarian  and  rhetorician,  the  ideal  clericus. 
As  such  he  appeared  in  the  thirteenth  century  romance  of 
Dolopathos,  endowed  with  the  attributes  and  the  official 
'  robes  of  a  mediaeval  teacher. 

In  these  two  aspects,  however,  the  mediaeval  Vergil  had 

little  effect  upon  later  literature.    But  as  a  moral  teacher 

and  as  a  prophet  of  Christ,  his  influence  was  felt  even  down 

into  the  eighteenth  century  in  England,  and  his  fame  as 

la  magician,  while  not  so  long-Uved  among  the  cultured, 

(lingered  on  through  the  time  of  Chaucer,  Gower,  Lydgate, 

[and  Hawes,  and  on  the  continent  called  forth  a  formal 

attack  from  Gabriel  Naud^  as  late  as  the  seventeenth  cen- 

I  tury.     It  still  survives  among  the  people  of  Italy. 

Aelius  Donatus,  in  the  fourth  century,  the  first  to  attribute 
allegorical  significance  to  the  poems  of  Vergil,  found  in  the 
three  poems,  the  Eclogues,  the  Georgics,  and  the  Aeneid, 
the  three  stages  in  man's  development,  the  pastoral,  the 
agricultural,  and  the  martial.  Some  of  the  interpretations 
in  the  commentary  of  Servius  were  of  an  allegorical  nature, 
such  as  the  famous  explanation  of  the  golden  branch.  The 
tendency  was  a  persistent  one,  and  natural  enough  in  view 
of  the  mediaeval  fondness  for  writing  allegory.  It  afforded 
opportimity  for  every  sort  of  extravagance,  and  the  height 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  17 

of  absurdity  was  reached  in  the  De  Continentia  Vergiliana 
of  Fabius  Planciades  Fulgentius,  who  lived  not  later  than  the 
sixth  century.  He  gave  an  elaborate  interpretation  of  the 
Aeneid  as  a  representation  of  the  progress  of  the  human 
soul,  abandoning  the  Eclogues  and  Georgics  as  too  deep 
for  him  to  understand.  He  spoke  on  the  authority  of  the 
poet  himself,  for  the  shade  of  Vergil,  a  gloomy,  superior 
apparition,  appeared  to  him  in  person  and  instructed  him 
as  to  the  correct  meaning  of  the  epic.  Bernard  of  Chartres 
carried  on  the  tradition,  and  Dante  in  the  Convito  discussed 
the  ''allegory  of  the  ages  of  man  contained  in  the  Aeneid.'' 
John  of  Salisbury  devoted  a  whole  chapter  of  the  PolicraticiLS 
to  a  detailed  analysis  of  the  Aeneid  as  an  allegory  of  the 
human  soul.  The  notion  of  a  hidden  meaning  was  still 
strong  in  the  prologues  of  the  several  books  of  Gavin  Douglas^ 
translation  of  the  Aeneid,  and  in  Spenser's  Letter  to  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh. 

Rather  closely  allied  to  this  notion  of  Vergil  as  a  moral 
teacher,  was  the  firmly  grounded  belief  that  he  had  proph- 
esied the  coming  of  Christ.  The  remarkably  pure  and 
noble  character  of  his  life  made  people  all  the  more  ready 
to  accept  the  author  of  the  famous  fourth  Eclogue  as  a 
pagan  Isaiah,  especially  as  the  imagery  in  the  two  pictures 
of  the  reign  of  peace  on  earth  was  so  similar.  This  idea, 
which  persisted  far  into  modem  times,  in  the  Middle  Ages 
was  one  of  the  most  prevalent  of  the  traditions.  In  the  \ 
Mystery  Plays,  Vergil  appeared  as  one  of  the  prophets  of  ^ 
the  Messiah,  and  was  called  upon  for  his  testimony.  Some- 
times he  was  regarded  as  an  unconscious  witness  of  the 
Incarnation,  and  one  well-known  legend  represents  St. 
Paul  at  the  tomb  of  Vergil,  mourning  over  his  lost  oppor- 
tunity for  converting  one  who  was  so  nearly  a  Christian, 
and  would  have  been  so,  save  for  the  accident  of  having 
died  too  soon. 


18  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

In  spite  of  these  curious  perversions  of  the  meaning  and 
purpose  of  the  poems  of  Vergil,  there  survived  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  their  contents.  Even  the  romances  which 
treat  of  the  Aeneas  story  and  of  the  life  of  Vergil  were  based 
on  a  knowledge  of  the  original,  although  its  proportions 
were  rather  obscured.  These  romances  are  one  of  the  most 
interesting  developments  of  the  mediaeval  treatment  of 
Vergil.  The  story  of  Aeneas  supplied  one  more  subject  to 
the  romancers  who  were  busy  transforming  the  adventures 
of  Alexander  and  the  legends  of  Thebes  and  Troy  into  forms 
more  fitted  to  the  ideas  of  the  period.  "  Classical  narratives," 
says  Comparetti,  "were  compelled  to  adopt  romantic 
dress  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  time."  *  As  he  very  justly 
points  out,  this  is  part  of  the  same  tendency  which  led 
painters  of  the  Middle  Ages  to  put  into  their  pictures  the 
costumes  and  surroundings  of  their  own  time  and  country, 
regardless  of  the  subject.  The  interest  in  the  Troy  material 
was  very  great,  and  was  increased  by  the  belief  prevalent 
among  the  people  of  western  Europe  that  they  could  trace 
their  descent  from  the  Trojans.  Hence  the  preference  for 
the  narrative  of  Dares  the  Phrygian  over  that  of  Dictys  the 
Cretan,  as  the  former  was  written  from  the  Trojan  point 
of  view,  the  latter  from  the  Greek.  These  two  mediaeval 
Latin  prose  narratives  were  the  authorities  on  the  subject. 
Both  purported  to  be  translations  from  contemporary  ac- 
counts in  Greek,  and  where  Homer  differed  from  them,  he 
was  considered  to  be  in  the  wrong.**  Upon  them  were  based 
the  main  versions  of  the  Troy  story,  the  Roman  de  Troie 
of  Benoit  de  Saint-Maure,  which  was  translated  into  Latin 
prose  by  Guido  delle  Colonne,  the  De  Bello  Trojano  of 

*  Comparetti,  Vergil  in  the  M.A.,  p.  242. 

•  Homer  was  known  only  in  the  Latin  epitome,  the  Iliaa  Latina 
of  Baebius  Italicus,  or  "Pindar  the  Theban." 


xy 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  19 

Joseph  of  Exeter,  and  either  directly  or  indirectly,  many 
of  the  later  treatments  of  this  material. 

The  Aeneid  of  Vergil,  being  well  known  and  much  ad- 
mired in  the  Middle  Ages,  furnished  the  basis  for  romances 
on  the  story  of  Aeneas.  The  Romans  d'EneaSy  a  French 
poem  of  the  twelfth  century,  the  oldest  extant  version  of 
Vergil's  poem  in  a  vulgar  tongue,  was  evidently  written  by 
a  man  who  had  the  Aeneid  before  him.  It  is  far  from  a 
literal  translation,  however,  for  it  expands  some  incidents, 
suppresses  others,  changes  at  times  the  order  of  events, 
adds  long  descriptions  and  accounts  of  marvels  of  various 
kinds,  discredits  the  intervention  of  the  gods,  but  transforms 
Dido's  priestess  into  a  sorceress,  and  transports  the  whole 
narrative  into  the  atmosphere  of  mediaeval  romance.  It 
does  not  plunge  at  once  in  medias  res,  but  begins  with  an 
account  of  the  early  history  and  fall  of  Troy.  The  most 
interesting  expansion  is  that  of  the  Lavinia  episode.  The 
daughter  of  Latinus  is  a  mere  shadow  in  the  Aeneid j  but 
in  the  Eneas  she  becomes  a  truly  sentimental  maiden,  who 
falls  in  love  with  Eneas  when  she  sees  him  from  her  tower, 
as  he  passes  along  attended  by  his  chevaliers,  faints  when 
she  fears  that  he  is  untrue  to  her,  and  shows  all  the  char- 
acteristics of  a  mediaeval  love-sick  heroine.  Eneas  too  is  a 
model  lover.  He  sighs  and  groans  and  takes  to  his  bed  in  a 
thoroughly  conventional  fashion,  and  manages  though  pale 
and  wan  to  appear  before  Lavinia's  tower  in  time  to  save 
her  from  utter  despair  at  his  absence.  It  all  seems  like  a 
ridiculous  caricature  of  the  Aeneid,  but  the  poet  had  no  such 
intention.  He  was  merely  conforming  to  the  romantic 
ideals  of  his  age. 

The  Eneas  was  imitated  in  the  German  romance,  Eneit, 
by  Heinrich  von  Veldeke.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  fif- 
teenth century  there  was  another  French  handling  of  the 
story,  the  Livre  des   Eneydes,  translated   into   English   by  ^y 


20  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Caxton  in  1490.  All  of  these  show  a  strong  tendency  to 
place  undue  emphasis  on  the  sentimental,  erotic  portions 
of  the  narrative,  and  aU  incur  the  criticism  which  Gavin 
Douglas  makes  of  Caxton's  treatment  of  the  Dido  episode: 

So  that  the  feird  bulk  of  Eneados, 
Tuiching  the  luif  and  deith  of  Dido  quene, 
The  twa  part  of  his  volume  doith  contene, 
That  in  the  text  of  Virgill,  traistis  me, 
The  tweKt  part  scars  conteins,  as  ye  ma  se.* 

Not  only  the  career  of  Aeneas,  but  the  life  of  his  creator 
was  recognized  as  a  legitimate  subject  for  romanticizing. 
In  the  Dolopathos,  a  Latin  prose  romance  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  later  put  into  French  verse  by  Herbers,  Vergil 
appears  as  the  mediaeval  clerk,  philosopher  and  astrologer, 
the  tutor  and  guardian  of  Lucimien,  the  son  of  Dolopathos, 
king  of  Sicily.  The  figure  of  Vergil  here  is  approaching  the 
popular  conception  of  him  as  a  magician;  but  although  he 
has  the  power  of  prophecy  through  his  knowledge  of  astrol- 
ogy, he  uses  it,  not  because  of  his  own  magic  powers  or 
through  any  alliance  with  the  Devil,  but  through  the  grace 
of  God.  It  can  be  easily  seen,  however,  that  it  is  no  long 
step  from  this  conception  to  that  contained  in  Walter  Burley's 
,Ldves  of  the  Philosophers  or  the  sixteenth  century  Lyfe  of 
'  Virgilius,  which  had  a  French  original.  The  Dolopathos 
belongs  to  the  literary  tradition  rather  than  the  popular, 
even  containing  quotations  from  the  works  of  Vergil,  but  it 
is,  as  Comparetti  says,  the  ''final  parody  of  the  literary 
tradition.*^  ^ 

A  religious  and  almost  superstitious  veneration  for  Vergil 
began  in  the  days  of  Silius  Italicus,  Statins,  and  Martial, 

•  Douglas,  Virgil,  Proloug  of  the  First  Buik  of  Eneados. 
'  Comparetti,  Vergil  in  the  M.  A.,  p.  238. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  21 

who  observed  his  birthday  with  sacrifices,  and  honored  his 
tomb  hke  that  of  a  deified  emperor.  By  the  time  of  Macro- 
bius  he  had  attained  the  dignified  position  of  an  infalHble 
authority  upon  all  subjects,  including  the  occult  science  of 
astrology.  Many  apocryphal  anecdotes  were  related  in 
the  successive  biographies  of  the  poet.  Here  perhaps  was 
a  prophecy  of  the  growth  of  that  extraordinary  mediaeval 
conception  of  Vergil  as  a  magician. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  phases  of  Vergilian 
study,  this  survival  in  the  minds  and  affections  of  the  people 
of  the  personality  of  a  great  poet  whose  works  have  always 
appealed  to  the  educated  and  cultured.  His  name,  it  is 
said,  still  finds  a  place  in  the  folk-stories  of  Italy  and  even 
in  the  peasant  games  of  Poland.  There  are  various  theories 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  Vergil  legend.  Comparetti  says  that 
it  originated  in  Naples,  among  the  lower  classes,  and  was 
founded  on  local  records  connected  with  Vergil's  long  stay 
in  that  city  and  the  celebrity  of  his  tomb  there.  Tunison, 
on  the  other  hand,  holds  that  it  grew  out  of  the  linking  of 
Vergil's  name  with  certain  legends  afloat  in  Germany, 
whence  they  were  transferred  to  Italy.  "In  effect,"  he  says, 
'Hhese  stories  were  like  blank  forms  of  legal  documents 
which  only  required  a  word  here  and  there  to  fit  them  for  a 
great  variety  of  uses.  Virgil's  name  was  simply  one  of  these 
accidental  strokes,  out  of  many  failures  that  were  forgotten, 
which  hit  the  popular  fancy."  ^  Graf,^  taking  the  middle 
course,  says  that  the  legends  were  popular  in  origin,  but 
were  connected  with  the  literary  legend.  This  seems  the 
most  reasonable  view  to  take  of  the  matter.  The  legends 
were  certainly  firmly  established  in  the  popular  mind  when 
Conrad  of  Querfurt  and  Gervase  of  Tilbury  visited  Naples, 
and  brought  home  accounts  of  the  marvels  they  found  there. 

*  Tunison,  Master  Virgil,  p.  96. 

"  Graf,  Roma  nella  Memoria  e  neUe  Immaginazioni  de  Medio  Aevo. 


22  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

It  seems  natural  to  suppose  that  the  powers  of  prophecy  and 
the  knowledge  of  astrology  which  the  Middle  Ages  assigned 
to  Vergil,  as  well  as  the  familiarity  with  magic  rites  displayed 
in  the  eighth  Eclogue  and  the  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
Underworld  shown  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Aeneid,  may 
all  have  had  an  effect  in  fostering  the  belief  that  the  poet 
himself  possessed  magical  powers  and  held  intercourse  with 
the  Devil. 

Whatever  their  origin  may  have  been,  there  were  many 
curious  legends  connected  with  the  name  of  Vergil,  both 
at  Naples  and  at  Rome.  He  added  to  the  comfort  of  the 
former  city  in  many  ways,  and  at  Rome  he  built  the  wonder- 
ful Salvatio  Romaej  the  palace  or  mirror,  according  to  the 
two  forms  of  the  legend,  which  protected  Rome  from  her 
enemies.  Several  of  the  legends  ^°  are  spoken  of  in  the 
account  of  Vergil  given  by  Walter  Burley  in  his  De  Vita  et 
Mcrrihus  Philosophorum,  adopted  with  a  qualifying  creditur 
from  the  De  Naturis  Rerum  of  Alexander  Neckam.  This 
is  a  curious  mixture  of  fact  and  fancy,  but  it  has  not  reached 
the  pure  legend  of  the  sixteenth  century  Lyfe  of  Virgilvas, 
an  EngUsh  translation  of  a  French  story-book,  ;'L6S  Fails 
MerveHUmx  de  Virgilley  made  by  John  Doesborcke,  and 
printed  by  him  in  Gothic  letter  with  woodcuts  at  Antwerp. 
The  book  is  without  date,  but  it  probably  was  printed  about 
1525  or  1530.  The  title-page  gives  an  idea  of  the  character 
of  the  narrative:  "This  boke  treateth  of  the  lyfe  of  Virgilius 
and  of  his  death,  and  many  marvayles,  that  he  dyd  in  his 
lyfe  tyme  by  witchcraft  and  nigromansy,  thorough  the 
help  of  the  devylls  of  hell." 

Although  Englishmen,  such  as  Gervase  of  Tilbury  and  Alex- 
ander Neckam,  were  among  the  first  to  give  literary  expres- 

"  For  a  full  account  of  Vergil  the  magician,  see  Comparetti,  op.  cU., 
Part  II,  Tuniaon,  op.  cU.,  Graf,  op.  cit.,  and  for  the  legends  current  in 
Italy  today,  C.  G.  Leiand,  Unpublished  Legends  of  Virgil. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  23 

sion  to  the  legends  about  Vergil,  these  stories  had  com- 
paratively httle  effect  on  later  EngUsh  literature.  Some 
of  the  Middle  English  versions  of  the  Seven  Sages  connect 
the  name  of  Vergil  with  the  story  of  the  Salvatio  Romae, 
which  Chaucer  merely  alludes  to  and  which  Gower  relates 
in  full.  Gower  makes  an  allusion  to  one  of  the  magician's 
love-adventures,  which  is  described  by  Stephen  Hawes. 
Marlowe,  in  his  Doctor  FaiLstics,  speaks  of  his  magic  power. 
But  there  is  no  trace,  as  far  as  I  know,  of  any  popular  belief 
in  Vergil  the  magician,  as  there  was  in  other  countries  on 
the  continent  with  which  Vergil  had  had  no  connection. 
Merlin,  Roger  Bacon  and  Doctor  Faustus  furnished  the  neces- 
sary support  for  the  English  love  of  the  marvelous,  and  Vergil 
for  the  most  part,  took  his  true  place  as  a  great  poet  rather 
than  as  a  great  magician. 

Inasmuch  as  scholarship  in  mediaeval  England  was 
almost  wholly  in  the  hands  of  the  churchmen,  it  is  to  their 
writings  that  we  must  look  to  find  indications  of  the  attitude 
of  the  period  toward  Vergil.  The  struggle  which  went  on 
in  the  minds  of  the  clergy  on  the  continent  between  their 
love  for  the  beauties  of  pagan  literature  and  their  abhor- 
rence of  its  doctrines,  was  paralleled  in  England.  They 
recognized  the  importance  of  the  classics  in  education  as  a 
basis  of  culture,  and  could  not  forget  what  they  had  learned 
in  their  youth.  Like  Jerome,  they  quoted  Vergil  on  one 
page  and  inveighed  against  him  on  another.  Alcuin,  who 
had  loved  the  Mantuan  in  his  youth,  later  instructed  his 
pupils  not  to  read  him.  Yet  his  own  letters  were  full  of 
Vergilian  echoes.  Herbert,  Bishop  of  Norwich,  told  of  a 
dream  in  which  Christ  appeared  to  him  and  reproved  him 
for  his  affection  for  the  classical  writers.  St.  Odo  had  a  vision 
in  which  he  saw  a  vessel,  very  beautiful  to  look  upon,  but 
full  of  poisonous  serpents.    When  he  awoke,  he  realized 


24  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

that  the  vessel  represented  Vergil,  and  the  serpents  were  the 
pernicious  doctrines  contained  in  his  poems. 

But  no  matter  how  strongly  they  might  protest  against 
the  morals  of  Vergil,  nothing  could  eradicate  from  their 
minds  the  poetry  they  had  learned  in  childhood.  Perhaps 
this  poet  enjoyed  some  degree  of  immunity  from  their  at- 
tacks because  of  the  traditional  connection  of  his  name 
with  Christianity.  However  that  may  be,  he  was  a  general 
favorite  for  quotation.  The  earliest  evidence  of  knowl- 
edge of  Vergil  in  Britain  is  in  the  book  of  Bishop  Gildas, 
in  which  he  quotes  from  the  Aeneid  ^^  in  the  midst  of  his 
lamentations  over  the  downfall  of  his  country.  The  His- 
tory of  the  Britons,  also,  which  goes  under  the  name  of  Nennius, 
cites  a  line  from  the  third  book  of  the  Georgics,^^  and  in 
the  curious  genealogies  of  Brutus,  gives  evidence  of  some 
knowledge  of  the  adventures  of  Aeneas. 

There  is  no  room  to  doubt  that  Aldhelm  was  famihar 
with  all  the  works  of  Vergil.  While  some  of  his  classical 
quotations  may  be  due  to  the  careful  study  of  the  illustra- 
tions in  a  mediaeval  grammar,  this  is  probably  not  the 
case  with  Vergil.  In  his  Liber  de  Septenario,  et  de  Metris^ 
Aenigmatibus,  ac  Pedum  Regulis,  the  illustrative  quotations 
from  the  Aeneid,  Georgics  and  Eclogues  are  nearly  as  numer- 
ous as  those  from  all  other  Latin  poetry  put  together.  He 
shows  familiarity,  not  only  with  single  lines,  but  with  long 
passages,  such  as  the  description  of  Fama,  which  he  quotes 
in  one  of  his  Riddles  and  imitates  to  some  extent  in  his 
picture  of  Superbia,  and  the  account  of  Allecto,  which  he 
also  follows,  even  more  closely,  in  a  passage  in  the  poetical 
version  of  the  De  Laudibus  Virginitatis}^  Beside  these 
longer  passages,  this  poem  is  full  of  Vergilian  reminiscences. 
The  opening  words,  omnipotens  genitor,  strike  the  note  at 

"  Aen.  9.  24.  "  Georg.  3.  25. 

"  De  Laudibus  Virginitatis,  11.  1635  ff. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  25 

once,  and  a  mere  glance  down  the  pages  at  the  ends  of  the 
lines  will  reveal  a  large  number  of  verse-tags  which  show 
that  the  writer's  chief  acquaintance  with  the  hexameter 
has  been  in  the  poems  of  Vergil.  Such,  for  example,  are  the 
following :  caelestibus  armis,  fama  super  aethera  notus  (applied 
to  Gregorius),  quo  non  yraestantior  alter,  stipante  caterva, 
limina  portae,  cornua  cantu,  and  many  others.  Phrases  too 
within  the  lines  sometimes  give  a  brief  passage  almost  the 
appearance  of  a  Vergilian  cento.  That  he  knows  also  some 
of  the  literary  legends  which  had  gathered  about  the  biog- 
raphy of  Vergil,  is  evident  from  his  reference  in  his  treatise 
on  meters  to  the  story  about  Vergil's  writing  his  own  epitaph. 
The  Venerable  Bede  was  not  so  devoted  to  Vergil  as  his 
predecessor.  The  quotations  are  not  so  numerous,  the 
echoes  in  his  poetry  are  fewer,  and  in  the  illustrative  quo- 
tations in  his  technical  works  there  is  not  such  a  preponder- 
ance of  lines  from  Vergil.  He  rather  prides  himself  on  his 
unlikeness  to  the  Mantuan  in  his  choice  of  subject-matter, 
saying  in  the  hymn  celebrating  Queen  Ethelrida,  a  holy 
virgin, 

Bella  Maro  resonet,  nos  pacis  dona  canamus; 

Munera  nos  Christi,  bella  Marc  resonet.^* 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  his  narrative  in  the  Ecclesiastical  History ^ 
he  can  write,  ''Conticuere  omnes  intentique  ora  tenebant, 
quem  res  exitum  haberet  soUiciti  expectantes."  And 
echoes  in  his  poetry,  though  comparatively  few,  are  to  be 
found.  The  lines  describing  a  gust  of  wind  striking  a  ship 
in  the  De  Miraculis  Sancti  Cuthherti,  go  back  to  the  Aeneid 
for  a  model  as  so  many  storm  pictures  have  done  since 
the  days  of  Vergil.  Phrases  too  like  inque  dies,  haec  vbi 
dicta,  instaurat  honorem,  nee  me  sententia  fallit,  some  of 
which  had  become  commonplaces  in  narrative  poetry,  mark 
"  Eccl  Hist.  Bk.  IV.  Chap.  20. 


26  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

the  Vergilian  influence.  The  CilcuIus  sive  Veris  et  Hiemis 
Conflictus,  variously  assigned  to  Bede  and  Alcuin,  is  an 
eclogue  in  amoebean  form,  with  several  reminiscences  of 
the  master's  phraseology,  such  as  Palaemon's  dedne  plura, 
which  closes  the  contest.  The  most  significant  thing,  how- 
ever, is  that  without  exception,  all  of  the  quotations  in  the 
De  Temporum  Ratione  are  from  Vergil,  and  that  all  of  them 
are  given  without  his  name,  several  of  them  beginning  with 
such  words  as  et  Poeta  describens,  de  qica  Poeta,  meminit 
horum  et  Poeta.  For  the  Middle  Ages  Vergil  was  truly  the 
Poeta  par  excellence}^ 

To  Bede  the  fall  of  Troy  and  the  wanderings  of  Aeneas 
were  historical  facts.  They  found  a  place,  together  with 
actual  events,  in  his  chronicle  of  the  Third  Age  of  the  World 
in  the  De  Temporibus  and  the  De  Temporum  Ratione.  But 
to  Alcuin,  Vergil  was  the  falsus  Maro,  and  he  did  not  wish 
his  pupils  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  Vergilii  mendada, 
Alcuin  was  an  excellent  example  of  the  mediaeval  ecclesi- 
astical attitude  toward  Vergil,  for  he  who  said, 

Auribus  ille  tuis  male  frivola  falsa  sonabit,*' 

had  in  his  youth  been  Virgilii  ampliics  quam  psalmorum 
amator,^''  and  what  he  had  learned  in  those  days  of  early 
devotion  remained  an  integral  part  of  his  intellectual  equip- 
ment. He  made  frequent  use  of  this  despised  and  beloved 
falsator  to  point  a  moral  in  his  prose  works,  and  neither 
Bede  nor  Aldhelm  can  equal  him  in  the  number  of  Vergilian 
imitations  and  echoes  in  his  poetry. ^^  In  his  technical 
treatises  too  the  quotations  from  Vergil  outnumber  those 

»  Of.  John  of  Salisbury,  Policraticus,  VII.  6. 

"  Carmen,  prefixed  to  Compendium  in  Canticum  Canticorum. 

"  Anonymous  Vita  Alcuini,  Chap.  1. 

"  For  a  copious  list  of  Vergilian  quotations,  allusions,  and  echoes 
in  the  works  of  Alcuin,  see  Omera  Floyd  Long,  The  Attitude  of  Alcuin 
toward  Vergil,  in  Studies  in  Honor  of  B.  L.  GUdersleeve. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  27 

from  all  other  authors  put  together  by  a  ratio  of  more  than 
four  to  one.  And  his  excuse  is  the  familiar  appeal  to  the 
authority  of  the  apostle  Paul,  who  "aurum  sapientiae,  in 
stercore  poetarum  inventum,  in  divitias  ecclesiasticae  trans- 
tulit  prudentiae;  sicut  omnes  sancti  doctores,  eius  exemplo 
eruditi,  fecerunt."  ^^ 

The  search  for  Vergilian  influence  in  the  vernacular  litera- 
ture of  the  Anglo-Saxons  is  attended  with  little  success. 
Alfred  shows  the  characteristic  mediaeval  ignorance  or 
neglect  of  chronology  when  he  says,  "  Peah  Omerus  se  goda 
sceop,  l)e  mid  Crecu  selest  was:  se  was  Firgilies  lareow;  se 
Firgilius  waes  mid  Laedenwarum  selest,"  ^°  and  again  in 
verse  speaks  of  Homer  as  "Firgilies  freond  and  lareow." 
The  poems  assigned  to  Caedmon  and  C3niewulf  naturally 
depend  on  the  Biblical  narrative  for  their  story  and  structure. 
The  briefer  secular  poetry,  such  as  Widsith,  Deor,  Maldon 
and  Brunanburgh,  show  no  traces  of  Vergihan  style,  subject- 
matter  or  treatment,  except  in  so  far  as  the  last  two  give 
evidence  of  the  truth  of  the  following  statement  by  W.  P. 
Ker:  "There  are  certain  commonplaces  of  actual  life  which 
reappear  in  the  heroic  literature  of  different  countries  and 
make  a  kind  of  prosaic  stuff  for  the  poetic  imagination  to 
work  upon.  Epic  requires  a  particular  kind  of  warfare, 
not  too  highly  organized,  and  the  manner  of  the  Homeric 
battle  is  found  again  in  Germany,  Ireland,  and  old  France."  ^^ 
The  theory  of  Vergihan  influence  on  Beovmlf,  however, 
has  been  seriously  advanced  by  excellent  scholars,  and  calls 
for  some  discussion.  The  most  complete  statement  of  the 
case  is  that  by  Prof.  Fr.  Klaeber,  of  the  University  of  Min- 
nesota.^^ After  a  general  discussion  of  the  matter,  he  pro- 
is  Epistle  147.  "  Boethius,  Cap.  XLI. 
"  W.  P.  Ker,  The  Dark  Ages,  p.  81. 

^  Archiv  fur  das  Stvdium  der  Neueren  Spracherh  und  Literaturerif 
Band  126,  pp.  40-48,  33^-359. 


28  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

ceeds  to  set  forth  the  parallels  in  such  things  as  the  existence 
of  accounts  of  battles,  of  voyages  over  the  sea,  and  of  life 
at  court,  and  in  the  ideas  of  Fate  and  of  Heaven  and  Hell. 
He  finds  definite  similarities  in  the  first  part  of  Beowulf^ 
in  the  account  of  the  hero's  arrival  and  entertainment  at 
the  court  of  Hrothgar,  and  the  landing  of  Aeneas  on  the 
shore  of  Africa  and  his  treatment  at  Carthage.  Others  have 
also  pointed  out  here  a  similarity  to  the  reception  of  Ulysses 
by  the  Phaeacians.  In  his  second  article.  Prof.  Klaeber 
lists  in  great  detail  similarities  in  character-drawing,  in  situa- 
tion, in  the  expression  of  certain  thoughts  and  feelings,  and 
in  certain  incidents  in  the  narrative,  and  finally  resemblances 
in  phraseology  and  Latinisms  in  construction. 

Such  parallels  are  always  interesting,  but  as  proof  of  direct 
influence  they  are  not  always  convincing.  Prof.  Klaeber 
himself  is  rather  cautious,  saying  that  many  of  the  dis- 
coveries may  rest  upon  accident,  but  that  some  seem  to 
furnish  incontestable  proof  and  to  lead  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  influence  of  the  Aeneid  upon  Old  English  litera- 
ture is  greater  than  anyone  has  dared  heretofore  to  sup- 
pose. If  there  were  positive  proof  otherwise  that  the 
Beowulf  poet  knew  Vergil  and  was  copying  him,  these 
parallels  would  furnish  excellent  corroborative  and  illus- 
trative evidence.  But  there  is  no  such  positive  proof,  and 
the  mere  fact  that  two  poets,  both  writing  epics,  chose 
to  represent  a  remarkable  hero,  who,  after  a  sea  voyage, 
was  welcomed  with  hospitahty  by  those  on  whose  shores 
he  landed,  and  entertained  with  a  feast,  does  not  demonstrate 
conclusively  that  the  later  poet  was  using  the  earlier  as  a 
model.  Nor  is  the  point  settled  by  observing  that  Beowulf 
and  Aeneas  both  stand  in  awe  of  their  God,  that  Hrothgar 
and  Evander  bewailed  the  loss  of  their  youth  or  indulged  in 
reminiscences  of  former  days  (are  they  not  merely  furnishing 
two  examples  of  the  universal  truth  of  Horace's  descriptive 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  29 

phrase,  laudator  temporis  actif),  that  the  halls  of  Hrothgar 
and  Dido  were  adorned  for  the  feast  ("ein  merkwiirdiger 
Parallele"!),  that  the  warriors  in  both  poems  thought  that 
they  might  never  see  their  homes  again,  that  the  heroes 
resolved  to  conquer  or  die,  that  Grendel  and  Polyphemus 
were  both  horrid  monsters,  that  an  old  man  lamented  over 
his  loneliness  after  the  death  of  his  son,  and  Dido  bewailed 
her  loneliness  for  Aeneas,  or  that  the  many  other  parallels 
adduced,  of  which  those  mentioned  are  a  fair  sample,  can 
be  drawn.  Of  the  similarities  in  phraseology.  Prof.  Klaeber 
himself  admits  that  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with  certainty. 

It  is  of  course  perfectly  possible  that  the  Beowulf  poet 
knew  Vergil,  for  we  have  already  seen  that  writers  from 
the  time  of  Gildas  to  that  of  Alcuin  gave  positive  evidence 
of  an  acquaintance  with  his  works.  But  there  seems  to  me 
to  be  nothing  in  all  these  illustrations  to  make  it  certain 
that  he  was  following  Vergil,  either  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously. The  closest  parallels  are,  as  Prof.  Klaeber  says, 
those  in  the  first  part  of  Beowulf,  from  the  arrival  of  the 
hero  to  the  slaying  of  Grendel.  Closest  of  all,  perhaps,  is 
that  between  the  song  of  the  bard  at  Hrothgar's  court,  of 

how  the  Almighty  made  the  earth, 

fairest  fields  enfolded  by  water, 

set,  triumphant,  sun  and  moon 

for  a  light  to  lighten  the  land-dwellers,*^ 

with  the  song  of  lopas, 

hie  canit  errantem  lunam  solisque  labores, 
unde  hominum  genus  et  pecudes,  unde  imber  et  ignes, 
Arcturum  pluviasque  Hyadas  geminosque  Triones. 

(Aen.  1.  742-4) 

"  Beowulf,  11.  92-95.  Gummere's  translation  in  The  Oldest  English 
Epic. 


30  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

But  from  this  as  from  the  other  parallels,  no  more  definite 
conclusion  can  be  drawn  than  that  expressed  by  Prof.  Brandl, 
that  these  parallels  cannot  be  used  as  proof  of  a  direct 
dependence  of  Beowulf  on  Vergil,  as  they  may  all  be  ex- 
plained on  some  different  ground.  They  do,  however,  he 
thinks,  point  out  the  relationship  between  the  composition 
of  Beowulf  and  that  of  the  Roman  artificial  epic,  indicating 
that  the  methods  are  the  same  in  each  case.^* 

The  barren  centuries  which  followed  the  death  of  Alfred 
gave  httle  evidence  of  the  influence  of  Vergil,  except  in  the 
case  of  such  Latin  poetry  as  continued  to  be  written.  The 
writers  of  Saints*  Lives,  which  was  the  chief  form  of  literature 
of  that  time,  set  themselves  definitely  in  opposition  to  all 
classical  learning.  Aelfric  tells  us,  for  example,  that  when 
they  were  converted  St.  Eugenia  and  St.  Basil  utterly 
abandoned  the  learning  and  literature  of  the  Greeks  and 
Romans.  Some  writers  even  gloried  in  their  ignorance  of 
the  ancient  authors.  But  with  the  revival  of  learning  of  the 
twelfth  century  came  a  renewed  interest  in  Latin,  and  the 
writers  of  the  period  became  the  chief  exemplars  and  de- 
fenders of  a  classical  education. 

The  most  learned  man  of  the  twelfth  century  was  un- 
doubtedly John  of  Salisbury,  whose  Policraticus  and  M eta- 
logicus  give  ample  evidence  of  his  wide  reading  and  his 
advocacy  of  the  study  of  classical  literature.  In  this  read- 
ing, Vergil  was  of  course  included.  As  the  recent  editor  of 
his  Policraticus  says  in  his  Prolegomena,  "Vergilii  Bucolica, 
Georgica,  Aeneida  passim  citat.  Servii  et  Bemardi  Silves- 
tris  conmientariis  usus  est  et  Vita  VergiUi  quae  sub  Donati 
nomine  circumfertur."  ^^    There  are  about  a  hundred  refer- 

"  Paul's  Grundrias  der  Germanischen  Philologie,  Vol.  II,  p.  1008. 
For  a  refutation  of  this  theory,  see  H.  Munro  Chadwick,  The  Heroic 
Age,  pp.  74-76, 

"  Clemens  C.  I.  Webb,  Policraticus,  Prol. 


THE   MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  31 

ences  to  and  quotations  from  the  works  of  Vergil,  cited  in 
illustration  of  all  kinds  of  topics,  hunting,  incantations, 
omens,  dreams,  the  use  of  flattery,  the  qualities  proper  to 
princes  and  magistrates,  the  glory  to  be  obtained  from 
the  praise  of  great  writers.  Vergil  is  by  no  means  his 
favorite  author,  however.  Ovid,  Horace,  Cicero,  and  St. 
Augustine  are  quoted  far  more  frequently,  and  Valerius 
Maximus,  Macrobius,  Lucan,  and  Juvenal  are  quite  as 
popular  as  the  Mantuan. 

The  chief  interest  in  John  of  Salisbury's  treatment  of 
Vergil  lies,  not  in  these  quotations  and  references,  for  these 
are  not  marked  by  any  individuaUty,  but  in  his  allegorical 
interpretation  of  the  Aeneid.  ^'Procedat  tibi  poeta  Mantua- 
nus,"  he  says,  ''qui  sub  imagine  fabularum  totius  philoso- 
phiae  exprimit  veritatem."  ^^  And  in  his  last  two  chapters  ^ 
he  gives  a  definite  illustration  of  what  he  means  in  this 
sentence.  Following  in  general  the  example  of  Fulgentius, 
he  interprets  the  first  six  books  of  the  Aeneid  as  represent- 
ing the  six  ages  of  man.  The  name  Eneas,  he  says,  means 
merely  the  inhabitant  of  the  body,  '^ennos  enim,  ut  Grecis 
placet,  habitator  est,  demas  corpus  et  ab  his  componitur 
Eneas  ut  significet  animam  quasi  camis  tuguriohabitantem." 
This  symbolic  figure,  then,  passes  through  six  stages  in  his 
career,  each  described  in  the  story  of  one  of  the  books  of  the 
Aeneid.  The  first  book  represents  infancy  attacked  by 
storms,  the  second,  youth,  the  third,  young  manhood,  the 
fourth,  the  experience  of  illicit  love  restrained  by  reason 
in  the  person  of  Mercury,  the  fifth,  maturity,  the  sixth,  old 
age.  ''Constat  enim,"  he  concludes,  "apud  eos  qui  mentem 
diligentius  perscrutantur  auctorum  Maronem  geminae 
doctrinae  vires  declarasse,  dum  vanitate  figmenti  poetici 
philosophicae  virtutis  involvit  archana."  In  the  next 
chapter  he  apphes  Vergil's  description  of  the  golden  bough 

26  Bk.  VI.  chap.  22.  »  Bk.  VIII.  chaps.  24,  25. 


V" 


32  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

to  the  attempt  of  man  to  wrest  from  the  tree  of  wisdom  the 
branch  of  virtue.  "Neque  enim  ad  genitorem  vitae,  Deum 
sciUcet,  alter  redit,  nisi  qui  virtutis  ramum  excisum  de 
Ugno  scientiae  praetendit."  But  no  one  can  tear  off  this 
branch  without  knowing  the  whole  tree.  "Hoc  ipsum 
sensit  et  Maro,  qui,  licet  veritatis  esset  ignarus  et  in  tenebris 
gentium  ambularet,  ad  EUseos  campos  fehciiun  et  cari  geni- 
toris  conspectus  Eneam  admittendum  esse  non  credidit, 
nisi  docente  Sibilla,  .  .  .  ramum  hunc  .  .  .  consecraret." 
Here  is  the  interesting  contrast  with  Alcuin.  The  later 
Christian  feels  that  some  use  may  be  made  of  the  stories 
which  charmed  and  shocked  the  earlier  ecclesiastic.  He 
believes  "nee  verba  nee  sensus  .  .  .  gentilium  fugiendos, 
dummodo  vitentur  errores."  This  reconcilement  of  pleasure 
and  duty  had  an  abiding  charm  which  lasted  long  after  the 
religious  prejudice  which  gave  it  birth  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 

The  same  allegorizing  tendency  determines  much  of  the 
treatment  of  the  material  in  Alexander  Neckam's  De  Natu- 
ris  Rerum,  with  its  frequent  alternation  of  "Narratio"  and 
"Adaptatio."  He  explains  that  when  Vergil  says  that 
Aeneas  had  as  a  friend  the  jidus  Achates ^  he  means  merely 
that  he  carried  with  him  an  agate  {achates),  a  stone  which 
had  the  power  of  rendering  the  bearer  amabilem  et  facun- 
dum  et  poteniem}^  In  his  chapter  on  bees,  which  is  largely 
compiled  from  the  fourth  Georgic,^^  and  contains  a  long 
quotation  from  it,  he  applies  everything  to  human  life  and 
draws  a  moral  from  the  activities  and  characteristics  of 
the  bees. 

Neckam  has  also  come  under  the  spell  of  the  mediaeval 
legends  in  regard  to  Vergil,  both  literary  and  popular.  He 
tells  the  story  of  the  saving  of  Vergil's  life  by  a  gnat,  which, 
according  to  the  current  tale,  was  the  occasion  of  the  writing 
of  the  Culex.    But  when  he  compared  the  poem  with  the 

"  Bk.  II.  chap.  85.  "  Bk.  II.  chap.  163. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  33 

story,  he  found  that  the  circumstances  were  different.'^  He 
also  gives  an  account  of  some  of  the  marvels  attributed  to 
Vergil,  whose  name  was  so  closely  associated  with  Naples, 
one  of  the  places  '4n  quibus  artes  floruerunt  liberales.'^^^ 
This  is  the  first  literary  expression  of  these  popular  stories 
about  Vergil's  miraculous  power.  They  seem  to  have  been 
recorded  first  by  men  like  Gervase  of  Tilbury  ^^  and  Conrad 
of  Querfurt,  who  brought  them  back  from  Ital^,  and  it  is 
possible  that  Neckam  had  heard  them  himself  in  Naples. 
He  relates  five  of  the  wonders  which  had  been  ascribed  to 
Vergil,  one  of  which,  the  Salvatio  Romae,  had  a  wide  vogue, 
and  recurs  several  times  in  the  literature  of  England. 

As  Neckam  tells  it,  the  story  runs  as  follows:  Vergil 
built  at  Rome  a  noble  palace,  in  which  were  images  represent- 
ing all  the  nations  of  the  world.  There  was  also  a  bronze 
horseman,  who,  when  any  nation  threatened  to  attack 
Rome,  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  image  of  that  country, 
and  so  warned  the  city  of  its  danger.  When  Vergil  was 
asked  how  long  the  palace  would  stand,  he  replied,  ''Until 
a  virgin  shall  bear  a  child,"  and  at  the  birth  of  Christ,  the 
building  suddenly  fell  to  the  ground.  The  same  tale  is 
told  in  Neckam's  poem,  De  Laudibus  Divinae  Sapientiae, 
but  with  no  mention  of  Vergil.  The  story  is  found  in  many 
forms,  and  connected  with  other  names,  such  as  that  of 
Romulus.  There  are  oriental  analogues  in  stories  of  cities 
protected  from  the  approach  of  strangers  by  a  bronze  duck, 

30  Bk.  II.  chap.  109.  3i  Bk.  II.  chap.  174. 

32  See  his  Otia  Imperialia,  III.  10,  12,  13,  15,  16.  He  here  tells  the 
stories  of  the  bronze  fly,  of  the  shambles,  of  the  imprisonment  of  all 
the  snakes  in  Naples  under  the  Dominican  gate,  of  the  two  marble 
heads  on  the  gate,  a  smiling  one  on  the  right  and  a  frowning  one  on 
the  left,  which  determined  the  fortunes  of  all  who  entered,  of  Vergil's 
marvelous  garden,  of  the  statue  with  the  trumpet,  which  warded  off 
the  winds  from  Vesuvius,  of  the  healing  baths  at  Puteoli,  and  of  the 
cave  where  no  plots  could  be  made. 


34  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

which  has  suggested  that  the  classical  story  of  the  Capitoline 
geese  may  be  the  basis  of  the  whole  legend.  According  to 
another  popular  version  of  the  story,  the  Salvatio  Romae 
was  a  mirror,  set  up  near  the  city,  in  which  all  events  happen- 
ing in  the  world  could  be  seen,  and  so  any  threatened  danger 
could  be  averted.  This  forms  one  of  the  stories  in  the 
Middle  English  versions  of  the  Seven  Sages  of  Rome,  usually 
associated  with  the  name  of  Vergil,  once  with  that  of 
Merlin.  It  is  this  version  that  is  told  at  length  by  Gower, 
and  referred  to  by  Chaucer  in  the  Squieres  Tale.  According 
to  Gower ,^  whose  tale  really  belongs  in  spirit  with  that  of 
Neckam,  rather  than  two  hundred  years  later,  Vergil  made 
a  mirror  "of  his  clergie,"  which  should  reflect  any  enemies 
who  were  about  to  make  an  attack  on  Rome.     He 

sette  it  in  the  tounes  ye 
Of  marbre  on  a  piler  withoute.  .  .  . 
So  that  whil  thilke  Mirour  lasts, 
Ther  was  no  lend  which  mihte  achieve 
With  werre  Rome  for  to  grieve; 
Whereof  was  gret  envie  tho. 

At  a  certain  time,  Rome,  whose  emperor  was  named  Crassus, 
was  at  war  with  Carthage  under  Hannibal  and  with  "Puile." 
Her  enemies  were  prevented  from  doing  any  harm  to  the 
city  by  the  virtues  of  the  mirror,  so  when  three  philosophers 
offered  to  destroy  it,  they  accepted  the  proposition  with 
alacrity.  These  three  men  went  to  Rome  with  a  large 
amount  of  treasure  which  they  secretly  buried  in  two  differ- 
ent places.  Then  they  appeared  before  Crassus,  and  told 
him  that  they  were  able  by  the  help  of  spirits  which  visited 
them  in  their  dreams,  to  discover  where  gold  was  hidden. 
They  offered  to  enrich  the  emperor,  and  he,  being  very 
covetous,  accepted  their  offer.  On  successive  days,  they 
dug  up  the  two  hoards  that  they  had  buried,  pretending  that 
»  Conf.  AmarUia,  V.  2. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  35 

the  location  had  been  revealed  to  them  in  the  night.  On 
the  third  day  they  announced  that  there  was  treasure 
"under  the  glas,"  and  asked  permission  to  dig  there.  Crassus 
demurred  at  this,  fearing  that  harm  might  come  to  the 
mirror,  but  when  the  philosophers  promised  that  they  would 
so  prop  up  the  tower  that  there  would  be  no  possible  danger, 
he  consented.  The  three  philosophers,  therefore,  under- 
mined the  tower,  first  putting  props  under  it  as  they  had 
promised.  But  at  night  they  set  fire  to  the  props  and 
fled;  the  tower  fell  and  the  mirror  was  destroyed.  The 
result  was  a  general  attack  against  Rome,  and  Hannibal 
slew  so  many  noble  Romans  in  one  day  that  he  got  three 
bushels  of  gold  rings  from  their  fingers,  and  bridged  the  Tiber 
with  their  dead  bodies.  The  Romans,  in  punishment  of 
the  "coveitise'*  of  the  emperor,  which  had  caused  all  the 
mischief,  poured  molten  gold  down  his  throat.  While 
Gower  seems  to  be  responsible  for  the  addition  of  Carthage 
and  Hannibal,  the  main  outlines  of  the  story  are  those  which 
occur  in  the  other  accounts.  Spenser  assigns  the  manu- 
facture of  a  similar  mirror  to  Merlin,  and  says  he  made  it 
for  King  Ryence  of  Deheubarth.  Just  how  the  mirror 
survived  the  fall  of  the  tower,  I  do  not  know,  but  John 
Evelyn  tells  us  that  in  1643  he  visited  the  cathedral  of  St. 
Denis  near  Paris,  and  that  in  the  treasury,  which  was  "es- 
teemed one  of  the  richest  in  Europe,  ...  lay  in  a  window 
a  mirror  of  a  kind  of  stone  said  to  have  belonged  to  the 
poet  Virgil."  It  is  interesting  that  this  is  the  version  of 
the  legend  which  has  survived  in  the  witch-lore  of  Italy  to 
the  present  day.^^ 

Neckam  also  tells  the  story  of  the  golden  leech,  which 
Vergil  made  and  put  into  a  well  in  order  to  check  the  spread 

•*  See  Leland,  Unpublished  Legends  of  Virgil,  pp.  6,  7.  For  a  com- 
plete account  of  the  variants  of  this  popular  story,  see  Clouston,  The 
Magical  Elements  in  Chaucer's  Squire's  Tale. 


36  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  a  plague  of  leeches  in  Naples.  Many  years  afterwards, 
when  the  well  was  cleaned  and  the  golden  leech  removed, 
the  plague  returned,  and  could  not  be  stayed  until  the 
tahsman  was  found  and  restored  to  the  well.  It  is  to  the 
similar  story  of  the  bronze  fly  which  kept  all  other  flies  from 
the  city,  that  Walter  Map  refers  in  the  Apocalypsis  Goliae, 

Lucanum  video  ducem  bellantium; 
Formantem  aereas  muscas  Virgilium, 

which,  by  a  rather  natural  confusion  with  the  subject  of 
the  fourth  Georgic,  was  translated  about  1600, 

And  Virgil  then  did  shape  the  small  bees  of  the  aire. 

This  great  magician  also  laid  a  spell  on  a  shambles  in  Naples, 
so  that  meat  placed  in  it  would  keep  fresh  indefinitely, 
much  to  the  joy  of  the  butchers,  who  had  been  troubled 
by  the  unnaturally  rapid  spoiling  of  their  meat.  Around 
his  own  garden  Vergil  had  instead  of  a  wall  an  impenetrable 
atmosphere,  and  for  his  own  use  he  had  a  bridge  of  air  on 
which  he  could  travel  to  any  quarter  of  the  globe. 

The  Latin  chroniclers  of  the  twelfth  century  also  show  a 
famiUarity  with  the  works  of  Vergil,  for  they  quote  him 
frequently.  And  William  of  Malmesbury  tells  of  the 
finding  of  the  body  of  Pallas,  whom  Turnus  killed,  uncor- 
rupted  after  so  many  years,  with  an  epitaph  over  it.  The 
same  marvelous  story  appears  in  the  English  Gesta  Romano- 
rum,  as  a  symbol  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul.^^ 

The  chief  interest  of  the  chroniclers  in  Aeneas  was  in  his 
relationship  to  Brutus,  the  eponymous  founder  of  the 
race  of  the  Britons.  The  whole  of  western  Europe  felt  a 
sympathy  for  the  Trojans  on  account  of  their  supposed  de- 

"  William  of  Malmesbury,  Hist,  of  the  Kings  of  England,  Bk.  II, 
par.  206.  Gest.  Rom.,  translated  from  the  Latin  by  Charles  Swan, 
Tale  CLVIII.  For  other  stories  in  the  Gest.  Rom.  connected  with  the 
name  of  VergU,  see  Tales  LVII,  CVII,  CLXXVI. 


THE  MEDIAEVAL  TRADITION  37 

scent  from  some  individual  of  the  race,  and  England  was  no 
exception.  It  was  a  common  thing  for  histories  of  England 
to  begin  with  the  story  of  Aeneas  and  the  coming  of  Brute 
to  Albion,  and  for  Layamon  it  was  natural  to  call  his  poem 
the  Brut,  perhaps  in  imitation  of  the  Aeneid,  for  Brute 
stood  in  the  same  relation  to  the  British  as  Aeneas  did  to  the 
Romans.  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  was  the  first  to  tell  the 
story  after  the  confused  account  of  Nennius,  and  he  did  it 
most  fully.  ''After  the  Trojan  War,  Aeneas,  fleeing  from 
the  desolation  of  the  city,  came  with  Ascanius  by  ship  unto 
Italy.  There,  for  that  Aeneas  was  worshipfuUy  received 
by  King  Latinus,  Turnus,  King  of  the  RutuUans,  did  wax 
envious  and  made  war  against  him.  When  they  met  in  battle, 
Aeneas  had  the  upper  hand,  and  after  that  Turnus  was  slain, 
obtained  the  kingdom  of  Italy  and  Lavinia  the  daughter  of 
Latinus."  There  follows  the  story  of  Brute,  the  great- 
grandson  of  Aeneas.  It  was  prophesied  before  his  birth 
that  he  should  slay  both  his  father  and  his  mother.  His 
mother  died  at  his  birth,  and  later,  when  hunting,  he  ac- 
cidentally shot  and  killed  his  father.  In  consequence  he 
was  banished,  and  fled  to  Greece.  There  he  found  the 
descendants  of  Helenus  in  bondage  to  the  Greek  king. 
He  finally  freed  them  and  sailed  away  with  them  from 
Greece.  His  voyage  was  attended  with  many  adventures, 
more  or  less  reminiscent  of  the  Aeneid,  and  he  finally  arrived 
at  the  island  of  Albion,  of  which  he  took  possession  and 
which  he  renamed  Britain  and  at  his  death  handed  on  to  his 
son,  Locrine.^^  It  was  this  tradition  of  the  founder  of  the 
race  which  Milton  had  in  mind  when  he  wrote, 

Virgin,  daughter  of  Locrine, 
Sprung  of  old  Anchises'  line.'^ 

^  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  Histories  of  the  Kings  of  Britain,  Bk.  I. 
chaps.  3  ff.     (Everyman's  Library.) 
^  Camus,  U.  922,  923. 


38  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

The  chroniclers  bring  to  a  close  the  mediaeval  period  in 
Vergilian  influence.  For  while  the  traditions  of  the  Middle 
Ages  were  perpetuated  in  the  succeeding  centuries,  with 
Chaucer  comes  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  in  the  knowledge 
and  imderstanding  of  the  classics,  a  shght  preliminary- 
gleam  of  the  later  Renaissance. 


CHAPTER  III 
CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS 

In  his  knowledge  of  Vergil  and  his  treatment  of  Vergilian 
material,  as  in  other  things,  Chaucer  stood  out  from  among 
the  men  of  his  century  and  even  of  the  next.  While  his 
friend  and  contemporary  Gower  was  telling  at  length  the 
whole  story  of  VergiFs  magic  mirror,  Chaucer  was  merely 
referring  to  it  in  the  Squieres  Tale  in  a  manner  which  might 
indicate  that  he  discredited  the  legend.  While  the  Gawain 
poet  was  still  associating  Aeneas  with  the  plot  that  caused 
the  downfall  of  Troy,  Chaucer  was  writing  of  the  voyages 
of  the  Trojan  and  his  adventures  in  Carthage,  with  a  little 
prejudice  and  lack  of  proportion,  it  is  true,  but  still  with 
"Virgil  Mantuan"  and  ''Naso"  as  his  ''auctours."  Not 
that  Chaucer  was  untouched  by  the  mediaeval  tradition, 
for  we  shall  see  presently  that  the  romanticizing  tendency 
was  a  powerful  factor  in  determining  his  treatment  of  the 
character  and  story  of  Aeneas.  But  he  was  writing  with 
the  Aeneid  before   him. 

Chaucer  probably  was  familiar  with  the  Georgics  and 
Eclogues,  although  there  is  no  conclusive  evidence  that  he 
knew  anything  that  Vergil  wrote  except  the  Aeneid.  The 
motto  on  the  Prioress'  ''broche  of  gold,"  Amor  vincit  omnia, 
was  probably  a  commonplace  in  Chaucer's  time.  The  ap- 
parent quotations  of  the  famous  latet  anguis  in  herba  in  the 
Somnours  Tale  and  the  Squieres  Tale,  might  easily  have 
come  at  second  hand  from  the  Roman  de  la  Rose.  Other 
possible  allusions  to  any  other  work  of  Vergil  except  the 
Aeneid,  may  be  similarly  explained  without  the  necessity  of 

39 


40  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

assuming  on  Chaucer's  part  any  knowledge  of  the  Eclogues 
or  the  Georgics}  Such  an  assumption,  however,  would  be 
the  simplest  way  to  explain  these  references.  To  Gower 
was  sent  a  poem  by  a  certain  philosopher,  perhaps  Strode, 
beginning,  ''Eneidos  BucoUcisque  Georgica  metra  perhen- 
nis,"  and  if  Strode  and  Gower  knew  the  Eclogues  and  Geor- 
gics, why  not  Chaucer? 

Prof.  Kittredge  says  that  it  was  probably  in  the  period 
from  1373  to  1380  that  Chaucer  extended  his  Latin  reading 
to  include  Vergil,  *' certainly  in  the  decade  following  the 
writing  of  the  Book  of  the  Duchess  in  1369."  ^  This  is  true 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  there  are  two  allusions  to  the  story 
of  the  Aeneid  in  the  last  mentioned  poem.  Lavinia,  whose 
story  was  one  of  those  pictured  on  the  windows  of  the 
chamber  in  Chaucer's  dream,  might  easily  have  become 
one  of  the  stock  figures  in  the  love-vision  type  of  poetry, 
in  view  of  the  prominent  part  she  played  in  such  a  romance 
as  the  Eneas.  She  is  mentioned  again  in  the  Balade  in  the 
Prologue  to  the  Legend  of  Good  Women.    The  reference  to 

Dydo,  quene  eek  of  Cartage, 
That  slow  hir-self ,  for  Eneas 
Was  f  als, 

undoubtedly  may  be  explained  as  due  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
Heroides,  occurring  as  it  does  with  allusions  to  other  heroines 
celebrated  by  Ovid.     The  mention  of  Antenor, 

The  traytour  that  betraysed  Troye, 

whereas  in  the  later  poems  it  is  always  Sinon  who  is  linked 
with  Ganelon  as  a  type  of  the  arch-traitor,  shows  that  at 
this  time  Chaucer  was  indebted  to  Dares  or  his  imitators 

»  Cf.  T.  &  C.  IV.  790  and  Georg.  1.  38  and  4.  453-527.     But  we  know 
that  he  was  familiar  with  the  story  of  Orpheus  in  Ovid,  Met.  10.  1-85. 
*  Chaucer  and  his  Poetry,  p.  28. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    41 

for  the  Troy  story  rather  than  to  Vergil.  We  may  assume 
then,  that  Chaucer's  acquaintance  with  Vergil  did  not 
necessarily  begin  until  after  1369,  that  he  knew  him  well 
before  writing  the  Hems  of  Fame,  and  that,  as  will  be  shown 
later,  his  knowledge  grew  more  complete  and  accurate  be- 
fore he  incorporated  the  story  of  Dido  in  his  Legend  of  Good 
Women, 

There  are  a  mmiber  of  references  to  the  Aeneid  scattered 
through  the  Canterbury  Tales.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
in  spite  of  the  hold  that  the  Dido  episode  had  evidently 
taken  on  Chaucer's  imagination,  the  only  mention  of  her 
name  outside  of  the  two  poems  where  her  story  is  told  at 
length,  except  for  the  passages  where  it  occurs  in  the  hsts 
of  stock  heroines  of  romance,  is  in  the  Introduction  to  the 
Tale  of  the  Man  of  Lawe,  in  the  enumeration  of  the  stories 
in  Chaucer's  own  ^'Seintes  Legende  of  Cupyde."  The 
onslaught  of  Pyrrhus,  the  fall  of  Ilion,  and  the  pathetic 
death  of  Priam  are  mentioned  twice;  the  treachery  of  Sinon 
is  cited  as  the  parallel  of  the  *'sly  iniquitee"  of  the  col-fox, 

O  news  Scariot,  newe  Genilon! 

False  dissimilour,  0  Greek  Sinon, 

That  broghtest  Troye  al  outrely  to  sorwe! 

and  the  horse  of  brass  in  the  Squieres  Tale  is  twice  compared 
with  the  "Grekes  hors  Synon."  Tumus  is  twice  alluded 
to,  and  the  sixth  book  of  the  Aeneid  is  evidently  in  Chaucer's 
mind  when  he  causes  the  Fiend  to  promise  the  Somnour 
full  knowledge  of  the  happenings  in  the  other  world, 

For  thou  shalt  by  thyn  owene  experience 
Conne  in  a  chayer  rede  of  this  sentence 
Bet  than  Virgyle,  whyl  he  was  on  lyve. 
Or  Dant  also.^ 

'  See  C.  T.,  B  289,  4548,  4418,  F  209,  305-8,  A  1945,  B  197  ff., 
D  1519. 


42  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

While  allusions  to  Vergil  are  plentiful,  mere  reminiscences, 
such  as  we  find  in  abundance  in  later  poets,  are  rare  indeed. 
Prof.  Skeat  ingeniously  explains  the  line  in  the  Legend  of 
Phyllis,  with  its  introduction  of  a  new  water  deity, 

And  Thetis,  Chorus,  Triton,  and  they  alle, 

as  a  confused  recollection  of  the  VergiUan  passage, 

et  senior  Glauci  chorus  Inousque  Palaemon 
Tritonesqtie  citi  Phorcique  exerdtus  omnis; 
laeva  tenent  Thetis  et  Melite  Panopeaque  virgo.* 

And  in  Troilus  and  Criseyde  we  find  such  Vergilian  expres- 
sions as  ''a  thousand  shippes,"  and  the  lover's  cry,  "Goddess 
or  woman." 

The  first  book  of  the  Hous  of  Fame  is  almost  entirely 
devoted  to  a  smnmary  of  the  Aeneid.  As  has  been  shown 
conclusively  by  Prof.  Sypherd,  the  poem  belongs  to  the 
love- vision  type.^  It  begins  in  the  usual  fashion  with  a 
discussion  of  dreams.  This  is  followed  by  an  invocation 
to  the  *'god  of  slepe,"  after  which  comes  the  description  of 
the  dream  itself.  Chaucer  fell  asleep  on  the  night  of  the 
tenth  of  December,  and  dreamed  that  he  was  in  a  temple 
of  glass,  which,  by  means  of  the  representations  of  Venus, 
Cupid  and  Vulcan,  he  soon  discovered  to  be  dedicated  to 
the  Goddess  of  Love.  On  the  walls  of  this  temple  were  pic- 
tures illustrating  the  story  of  the  Aeneid,  with  the  emphasis 
strongly  on  the  episode  of  Dido  and  Aeneas.  "The  sugges- 
tion of  the  temple  of  Love  came  from  the  love-visions," 
says  Prof.  Sypherd;  "the  story  of  Dido  and  Aeneas  came 
probably  from  his  favorite  author,  Vergil,  but  was  enlarged 
by  Chaucer  himself  in  a  manner  consonant  with  the  nature 
of  a  love-poem."  *    But  the  source  of  the  story,  both  here 

*  Leg.  of  Good  Women,  VIII.  2422,  Aen.  5.  82^-5. 

'  Sttidies  in  Chaucer's  Hous  of  Fame.  •  Op.  cU.  p.  19. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    43 

and  in  the  Legend,  is  undoubtedly  the  Aeneid,  although  a 
few  suggestions  may  be  traced  to  Ovid,  and  some  of  the 
atmosphere  and  emphasis  is  due  to  the  romances,  perhaps 
to  the  Eneas  itself.  Had  we  any  doubts  about  the  source, 
the  inscription  on  the  wall  of  this  temple  must  set  them  at 
rest.  In  these  lines,  a  close  translation  of  the  first  few  lines 
of  the  Aeneid,  may  be  felt  at  once  the  difference  in  tone  be- 
tween the  stately  Roman  poet  and  his  fourteenth  century 
admirer. 

I  wol  now  singe,  if  that  I  can, 

The  armes,  and  al-so  the  man, 

That  first  cam,  through  his  destinee, 

Fugitif  of  Troye  contree, 

In  Itaile,  with  ful  moche  pyne, 

Unto  the  strondes  of  Lavyne. 

The  idea  of  the  paintings  on  the  walls  has  been  traced  to 
many  sources,  more  or  less  probable.  If  Chaucer  had  any 
mediaeval  account  in  mind,  it  was  probably  a  passage  in 
Boccaccio's  Amorosa  Visione,  where  the  walls  were  painted 
with  legendary  love-episodes,  among  them  that  of  Dido 
and  Aeneas.  But  the  suggestion  may  have  come  directly 
from  the  Aeneid  itself.^  And  the  idea  of  wall-paintings  was 
probably  not  foreign  to  Chaucer's  personal  experience,  for 
there  were  many  such  to  be  seen,  and  the  picturing  of  mytho- 
logical subjects  on  tapestries  was  common  enough. 

For  the  sake  of  facihtating  the  discussion  of  the  two 
treatments  of  the  Vergilian  material  in  the  Hotts  of  Fame 
and  the  Legend  of  Dido,  the  following  table  has  been  pre- 
pared, indicating  the  proportions  of  the  two  Chaucerian 
versions,  and  their  relation  to  each  other  and  to  the  Aeneid. 

7  Aen.  1.  446-493,  6.  20-33. 


44 


VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 


AENEID 

Bk.  II,  U.  13-558. 
Bk.  II,  U.  58&-804. 


Bk.  III. 

Bk.  I,  U.  3^123,  124:- 

156,  Stilling  of  storm 

by  Neptune. 


HOUS  OF  FAME   BK.    I 

151-161,  Destruction 
of  Troy. 

162-197,  Flight  of  Ae- 
neas and  loss  of 
Creiisa. 

198-221,  Adventures 
on  the  sea;  the  storm ; 
the  stilling  of  the 
tempest  by  Jupiter. 


LEGEND   OP  DroO 

930-939. 
940-952. 


953-962,  "But  of  his 
aventures  in  the 
see 
Nis  nat  to  pur- 
pos  for  to  speke 
of  here." 


Bk.  I,  U.  157-222,  305-    222-238,    Landing   in    963-1003. 
410.  Africa;    meeting  of 

Aeneas  and  Venus. 


Bk.  1, 11.  411-756. 


239-268,  Meeting  and 
betrothal  of  Aeneas 
and  Dido. 


Bks.  II-III. 
Bk.  IV,  U.  1-218. 


Aeneas  tells  his  story. 


Cf.U.  349-351,  and  Bk. 
Ill,  U.  1368-1392. 


(269-292,  Lamentation 
on  the  unfaithful- 
ness of  man.) 


1004-1253,  Dido  and 
Aeneas  meet  in 
Juno's  temple;  de- 
scription of  her; 
the  pictures  in  the 
temple;  arrival  of 
lUoneus;  appear- 
ance of  Aeneas; 
Dido's  reception  of 
him;  the  feast;  the 
gifts;  arrival  of 
Ascanius;  Aeneas 
tells  his  story; 
Dido's  love;  her 
conversation  with 
Anna;  the  hunt; 
the  storm;  the  be- 
trothal; Fame  car- 
ries the  news  to 
larbas. 

(1254-1284.) 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    45 


AENBID 


HOUS  OF  FAME  BK.  I 


Bk.    IV,    U.    270-295,     293-363,  Aeneas  plans 
296-392,     Dido     re-        to    depart;     lament 


of  Dido  to  herself. 


monstrates  with 
Aeneas  -passionately: 
"  Dissimulare  etiam 
sperasti,  per  fide," 
etc.  504r-521. 


Bk.    IV,    U.    553-583,    364-378,  Departure  of 
584-705.  Aeneas;     death    of 

Dido. 


(Appeal  to  author- 
ity of  "Virgile  in 
Eneidos.") 

(379-382,  Dido's  letter 
to  Aeneas.) 

(383-426,  Exempla  to 
illustrate  the  un- 
faithfulness of  man.) 

427-432,  Mercury's 
message;  the  excuse 
of  Aeneas. 

433-438,  Aeneas'  voy- 
age to  Italy,  and  loss 
of  his  steersman. 


(Ovid,  Heroides  VII.) 


Bk.    IV,    11.    265-278, 
553-570. 

Bk.  V,  U.  1-11, 833-871. 


Bk.  V.     Funeral  games 
for  Anchises  in  Sicily. 
Bk.  VI. 

Bks.  VII-XII. 


439-450,  Aeneas'  visit 
to  the  Underworld. 

451-467,  Arrival  in 
Italy;  treaty  with 
Latinus;  battles; 
death  of  Turnus; 
marriage  with  La- 
vinia;  final  triumph 
of  Aeneas,  "maugre 
Juno." 


LEGEND  OF  DIDO 

1285-1324,  Aeneas 
plans  to  depart; 
Dido  remonstrates 
with  him  gently 
and  lovingly:  "My 
dere  herte,  which 
that  I  love  most." 
She  sacrifices. 

1325-1351,  Depar- 
ture of  Aeneas; 
lament  and  death 
of  Dido. 


(1352-1367,     Dido's 
letter  to  Aeneas.) 


Cf.  1.  1331. 


46  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

A  study  of  this  table  reveals  at  once  one  of  the  most 
interesting  things  in  the  handling  of  the  story  in  the  Hous 
of  Fame,  the  proportion  of  the  narrative.  In  this  con- 
nection the  Legend  must  be  left  out  of  consideration,  for 
that  is  frankly  concerned  only  with  the  Dido  episode,  and 
therefore  Chaucer  says  truly, 

But  of  his  aventures  in  the  see 
Nis  nat  to  purpos  for  to  speke  of  here, 
For  hit  accordeth  nat  to  my  matere. 
But,  as  I  seide,  of  him  and  of  Dido 
Shal  be  my  tale,  til  that  I  have  do. 

The  pictures  on  the  walls  of  the  temple  of  Venus,  however, 
are  supposed  to  represent  the  whole  story  of  the  Aeneid. 
Book  II  of  the  Latin  poem  is  summarized  in  forty-seven 
lines;  Book  III  and  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  lines  of 
Book  I,  in  twenty-four.  The  remainder  of  Book  I,  which 
narrated  the  arrival  of  Aeneas  in  Africa  and  his  reception 
at  the  court  of  Dido,  occupies,  in  Chaucer's  account,  forty- 
seven  lines.  The  events  of  Book  IV  occupy  ninety-two  lines 
of  the  Hous  of  Fame,  but  of  these,  sixty  are  devoted  to  the 
lament  of  Dido  when  she  learns  that  Aeneas  is  about  to 
depart.  The  fifth  book  of  the  Aeneid  is  allotted  only  six 
lines  in  all;  the  sixth  fares  somewhat  better  with  twelve; 
and  the  last  six  books  are  disposed  of  in  seventeen!  Thus 
the  emphasis  rests  heavily  on  the  Carthaginian  episode,  a 
mere  episode  in  the  Latin  poem,  but  the  main  portion  of  the 
story  in  the  English  version.  But  it  must  be  remembered 
that  this  is  a  love-vision,  and  that  the  Aeneid,  therefore, 
has  become,  as  Prof.  Kittredge  says,  the  epic,  not  of  Rome, 
but  of  Venus.*  The  elaboration  of  the  sentimental  part 
of  the  story,  especially  the  long  account  of  Dido's  "com- 
pleynt,"  is  in  full  harmony  with  the  mediaeval  romantic 
•  Chaucer  and  his  Poetry,  p.  78. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    47 

tendency  shown  previously  in  the  Eneas,  and  subsequently 
in  the  Eneydos  of  Caxton.  The  poem  was  intended  to  be 
read  by  those  interested  in  stories  of  courtly  love,  and  there- 
fore must  conform  as  much  as  possible  to  the  romantic 
convention.  The  whole  attitude  of  Chaucer  toward  the 
subject  is  indicated  in  the  lines  with  which  he  closes  the 
narrative  of  the  adventures  of  the  son  of  the  Goddess  of 
Love: 

How,  maugre  Juno,  Eneas 

For  al  hir  sleighte  and  bir  compas, 

Acheved  al  his  aventure; 

For  Jupiter  took  of  him  cure 

At  the  preyere  of  Venus, 

The  whiche  I  preye  alway  save  us. 

And  us  ay  of  our  sorwes  lighte! 

The  omissions  in  and  additions  to  the  narrative  are  also 
characteristically  romantic.  Who  in  a  courtly  audience 
would  have  been  interested  in  the  funeral  games  of  Anchises? 
Chaucer  omits  them  entirely,  without  even  a  word  of  men- 
tion. Had  he  been  willing  to  turn  them  into  a  tourna- 
ment, with  knights  in  action  and  fair  ladies  looking  on, 
doubtless  he  would  have  won  applause.  But  boxing  and 
wrestling  might  well  be  thought  to  have  no  place  in  a  love- 
poem.  This  is  the  only  important  portion  of  the  Aeneid 
which  is  omitted  entirely,  although  necessarily  in  the  abridged 
form  in  which  the  story  here  appears,  many  of  the  individual 
incidents  are  passed  over  in  silence,  both  in  the  Hous  of 
Fame  and  in  the  Legend.  It  is  interesting  to  see  that  the 
omission  in  the  earlier  poem  of  the  details  in  the  meeting  of 
Aeneas  and  Dido  and  the  events  which  followed  his  recital 
of  his  adventures,  is  not  paralleled  in  the  later  one,  where 
they  are  given  elaborately  and  accurately. 

Although  Chaucer  does  omit  these  details  in  the  Hous  of 
Fame,  in  the  same  poem  he  cannot  refrain  from  reporting 


48  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

in  true  mediaeval  fashion  the  "compleynt"  of  Dido  on 
finding  herself  forsaken.  This  is  given  largely  on  his  own 
authority,  as  he  himself  says,  — 

Non  other  auctor  alegge  I  — 

although  he  does  take  some  hints  from  Vergil,  especially 
in  the  lines, 

"0,  that  your  love,  ne  your  bonde. 
That  ye  han  sworn  with  your  right  honde, 
Ne  my  cruel  deeth,"  quod  she, 

"May  holde  yow  still  heer  with  me!" 

which  are  an  almost  Uteral  translation  of  the  verses, 

nee  te  noster  amor  nee  te  data  dextera  quondam 
nee  moritura  tenet  crudeli  funere  Dido? 

{Am.  4.  307-8) 

A  still  more  characteristically  mediaeval  addition,  which 
has  its  counterpart  also  in  the  Legend,  is  the  long  dissertation, 
with  two  proverbs  as  text  and  commentary,  on  the  un- 
trustworthiness  and  falseness  of  man,  reinforced  as  it  is 
later  in  the  poem  by  a  series  of  exempla,  the  stories  of  such 
deceived  and  deserted  women  as  Oenone,  Medea,  Deianira, 
and  "Adriane." 

Changes  in  the  spelling  of  proper  names,  such  as  that 
of  the  last  heroine  mentioned  above,  are  common.  In 
the  Hous  of  Fame  J  the  ItaUan  bride  of  Aeneas  is  called  Lavyna, 
and  in  the  Legend,  Dido's  first  husband  is  named  Sitheo. 
An  actual  mistake  is  found  in  the  Hoics  of  Fame,  in  the 
separation  of  Ascanius  and  lulus  into  two  different  persons: 

And  hir  yonge  sone  lulo 
And  eek  Ascanius  also. 

The  explanation  is  not  difficult."    Such  a  misinterpretation 

is  not  remarkable  in  the  Middle  Ages.     "lUoun*'  is  not 

•  See  Lounsbury,  Studies  in  Chaucer,  Vol.  II.  p.  386. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    49 

thought  of  as  the  same  as  Troy,  but  is  regarded  as  the  citadel, 
the  "  castel "  of  the  town.  An  example  of  the  reverse  process, 
whereby  two  persons  are  welded  into  one,  is  to  be  found 
in  the  "Brutus  Cassius,"  who,  according  to  Chaucer's 
Monk,  "maad  conspiracye"  against  JuUus  Caesar.  Another 
sUght  error,  or  perhaps  we  might  call  it  a  picturesque  ad- 
dition on  Chaucer's  part,  occurs  in  the  same  passage.  He 
says  that  Creusa  was  lost  "in  a  forest,"  but  there  is  nothing 
in  the  avia  of  the  Latin  to  necessitate  such  an  interpretation. 
Three  other  mistakes  in  this  same  poem  indicate  that 
Chaucer  was  not  yet  thoroughly  at  home  with  his  original. 
In  relating  the  events  connected  with  the  stilling  of  the 
storm  off  the  coast  of  Carthage,  he  confuses  the  order  of 
the  incidents.  He  says  that  there  was  a  picture  repre- 
senting Venus  imploring  Jupiter  to  save  Aeneas'  fleet, 
and  that  he  saw 

Joves  Venus  kisse 
And  graunted  of  the  tempest  lisse. 

But  in  Vergil,  the  quieting  of  the  storm  is  due  to  Neptune, 
and  after  her  son  has  landed  on  the  African  shore,  Venus, 
motivated  by  her  fear  for  his  safety  in  Carthage,  appeals  to 
Jupiter  for  his  aid.  Again,  when  Aeneas  and  Achates  met 
Venus  in  the  forest  in  disguise,  Chaucer  tells  us  that 

Eneas  gan  him  pleyne, 
Whan  that  he  knew  her,  of  his  peyne, 

but  as  Vergil  tells  the  story,  Aeneas  did  not  recognize  his 
mother  until  after  his  conversation  with  her,  when  vera 
incessu  patuit  dea.  By  omitting  entirely  the  funeral  games 
of  Anchises,  Chaucer  naturally  brings  together  the  storm 
at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  Aeneid  and  the  loss  of  Palinurus 
at  the  end*. 

The  Legend  of  Dido  shows  a  marked  improvement  in 
the  matter  of  accuracy  in  following  the  original.    None  of 


50  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

the  mistakes  in  the  Hoiis  of  Fame  is  repeated  here.  Indeed 
the  only  error  which  may  be  regarded  as  a  real  misunder- 
standing of  the  Latin,  is  the  misreading  of  leti  as  laetitiae  in 

this  was  the  firste  morwe 
Of  her  gladnesse,  and  ginning  of  her  sorwe. 

There  is  in  these  two  poems  a  radical  change  from  the 
VergiUan  conception  of  the  characters  of  Aeneas  and  Dido. 
The  former  is  no  longer  the  Fate-driven  hero,  the  destined 
fomider  of  the  mighty  Roman  race,  obeying  the  commands 
of  the  gods  rather  than  his  own  inclinations  (Italiam  non 
sponte  sequor),  but  the  "fals  lover,"  the  'Hraitour;"  nor  is 
Dido  the  passionate  woman,  swept  by  the  force  of  her 
emotions  into  disregard  of  her  solemn  oaths  of  loyalty  to 
her  first  husband,  but  one  of  the  faithful,  much-abused 
"saints  of  Cupid."  The  vision  of  his  father  and  the  visit 
of  Mercury  to  Aeneas  with  the  commands  of  Jove,  are  mere 
excuses  on  the  hps  of  the  faithless  lover,  and 

Ther-with  his  false  teres  out  they  sterte; 

for  although  this  is  what  "the  book  seyth"  in  order  "to 
excusen  Eneas,"  the  real  reason  for  his  departure  is  that 

This  Eneas,  that  hath  so  depe  y-swore, 
Is  wery  of  his  craft  within  a  throws; 
The  hote  ernest  is  al  over-blowe. 

The  new  conception  is  most  marked  in  the  Legend,  where 
the  narrative,  however,  follows  more  faithfully  and  accurately 
the  Latin  original,  and  is  far  more  detailed.  This  new 
Dido  is  a  typical  heroine  of  romance,  a  "fresshe  lady," 

So  yong,  so  lusty,  with  her  eyen  glade. 
That  if  that  god  that  heven  and  erthe  made, 
Wolde  han  a  love,  for  beaute  and  goodnesse, 
And  womanhod,  and  trouthe,  and  seemlinesse, 
Whom  should  he  loven  but  this  lady  swete? 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    51 

She  is  also 

holde  of  alle  quenes  flour, 
Of  gentilesse,  of  freedom,  of  beaute. 

How  different  is  this  woman  from  her  whom  Vergil  compares 
to  Diana  upon  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas  and  on  the  heights  of 
Cynthus,  followed  by  her  thousand  Oreads.  The  new 
Dido  looked  upon  a  new  Aeneas, 

And  saw  the  man,  that  he  was  lyk  a  knight, 
And  suffisaunt  of  persone  and  of  might, 
And  lyk  to  been  a  veray  gentil  man. 

With  the  evident  purpose  of  blackening  the  crime  of  the 
traitor,  Chaucer  loses  no  opportunity  of  emphasizing  the 
beauty  and  goodness  of  Dido.  The  ''meynee"  of  Aeneas 
that  he  thought  was  lost,  came,  not  because  they  were  brought 
as  prisoners,  but 

for  to  seke 
The  quene,  and  of  her  socour  her  beseke; 
Swich  renoun  was  ther  spronge  of  her  goodnesse. 

The  description  of  the  gifts  which  Dido  gave  Aeneas  serves 
the  same  purpose  of  heightening  the  iniquity  of  one  who 
could  presume  to  desert  so  noble  and  generous  a  woman. 

The  conversation  of  Dido  and  her  sister  Anne  brings  out 
in  strong  reUef  the  main  points  of  the  mediaeval,  romantic 
aspects  of  Chaucer's  treatment  of  the  story.  The  inter- 
view takes  place  on  a  moonht  night,  not  when 

postera  Phoebea  lustrabat  lampade  terras 
umentemque  Aurora  polo  dimoverat  lunbram. 

(Aen.  4.  6-7) 

The  role  of  Anna  is  changed  from  that  of  the  sister  who  asked 
placitone  etiam  pugnatis  amort  f  to  that  of  one  who  "som-del 


62  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

withstood"  the  queen's  passion.^'^  Dido's  simple  statement 
of  her  love  and  heart's  desire, 

I  wolde  fain  to  him  y-wedded  be, 

offers  a  striking  contrast  to  the  violent  struggles  of  the  Ver- 
gilian  Elissa: 

si  mihi  non  animo  fixum  immotumque  sederet 
ne  cui  me  vinclo  vellem  sociare  iugali,  .  .  . 
huic  uni  forsan  potui  succumbere  culpae.  .  .  . 
sed  mihi  vel  tellus  optem  prius  ima  dehiscat 
vel  pater  omnipotens  abigat  me  fulmine  ad  umbras, 
pallentis  umbras  Erebo  noctemque  profundam, 
ante  pudor,  quam  te  violo  aut  tua  iura  resolve. 

(Aen.  4.  15  ff) 

In  marked  contrast  to  this  omission  of  all  reference  to  Dido's 
violation  of  her  oath  is  the  emphasis  which  Chaucer  lays 
on  the  vows  of  loyalty  which  Aeneas  swore.  Nor  are  the 
gentle  words  of  the  queen  when  she  has  discovered  that 
Aeneas  intends  to  leave  her,  and 

She  asketh  him  anoon,  what  him  mislyketh — 
"My  dere  herte,  which  that  I  love  most  ?  " 

much  like  the  passionate  cry  of  the  angry  woman, 

dissimulare  etiam  sperasti,  perfide,  tantum 
posse  nefas  tacitusque  mea  deeedere  terra? 

{Aen.  4.  305-6) 

It  is  a  descent  from  the  heights  of  passionate  tragedy  to  the 
levels  of  sentimental  romance. 
As  the  author  of  the  Eneas  is  inclined  to  discount  the  inter- 

"  But  cf.  Hoiia  of  Fame,  where  Chaucer  has  preserved  a  natural 
touch  in  making  Dido  say  to  Anna,  "that  she  the  cause  was  /  That  she 
first  louede  Eneas,"  which  is  the  Vergilian  "tu  lacrimis  evicta  meis," 
etc.    {Aen.  4.  548-9.) 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    53 

vention  of  the  gods,  and  explain  everything  as  due  to  human 
means,  so  Chaucer  too  shows  the  rationaUzing  spirit.  This 
is  less  evident  in  the  Rous  of  Fame  than  in  the  Legend^  al- 
though in  the  former  poem  in  the  account  of  the  death  of 
Palinurus  no  mention  is  made  of  the  God  of  Sleep,  who, 
in  the  Vergilian  narrative,  is  responsible  for  his  fall.  Chaucer 
merely  says  that  he  saw  a  picture  which  showed 

how  he  loste  his  steresman, 
Which  that  the  stere,  or  he  took  keep, 
Smot  over-bord,  lo!  as  he  sleep. 

In  the  later  poem,  on  the  other  hand,  the  tendency  is  strongly 
marked.  Chaucer  cannot  understand  exactly  how  it  was 
that  when  Eneas  came  to  the  temple  of  Juno, 

Full  prively  his  wey  than  hath  he  nome, 

and  yet  he  cannot  quite  bring  himself  to  believe  the  ex- 
planation that  Vergil  offers: 

I  cannot  seyn  if  that  hit  be  possible, 
But  Venus  hadde  him  maked  invisible  — 
Thus  seith  the  book,  with-outen  any  lees. 

The  part  which  the  gods,  Venus,  Jupiter,  and  Mercury  as 
their  messenger,  play  in  securing  a  welcome  for  the  Trojans 
in  Carthage,  is  entirely  omitted,  and  Chaucer  is  even  dis- 
posed to  doubt  that  Cupid  had  anything  to  do  —  in  person 
—  with  Dido's  passion.  He  lays  the  grounds  of  her  love 
in  the  pity  that  she  felt  for  this  ** disherited"  stranger. 

But  natheles,  our  autor  telleth  us 
That  Gupido,  that  is  the  god  of  love, 
At  preyere  of  his  moder,  hye  above, 
Hadde  the  lyknes  of  the  child  y-take, 
This  noble  quene  enamoured  to  make 
On  Eneas;  but,  as  of  that  scripture, 
Be  as  be  may,  I  make  of  hit  no  cure. 


54  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Perhaps  this  is  due  to  Chaucer^s  desire  to  lay  all  the  blame 
for  Dido's  despair  and  death  on  his  mortal  hero,  or  perhaps 
to  the  rationaUzing  tendency  of  the  time  and  the  unwilling- 
ness to  beUeve  in  any  pagan  deity  but  the  goddess  Fortune. 
While  Vergil  was  the  main  source  of  Chaucer's  version  of 
the  story,  a  few  touches  in  the  narrative,  such  as  Dido's 
plea,  ''Let  me  with  yow  ryde,"  are  due  to  Ovid.^^  Perhaps 
something  of  the  romantic  attitude  is  a  reflection  of  the 
sentimentality  of  Ovid  as  well  as  of  the  spirit  of  the  times. 
Gower's  treatment  of  the  episode  is  based  on  Ovid's  Heroides, 
In  the  Hous  of  Fame,  Chaucer  refers  to  the 

Epistle  of  Ovyde, 
What  that  she  wrot  or  that  she  dyde, 
and  adds. 

And  nere  hit  to  long  to  endyte, 
By  god,  I  wolde  hit  here  wryte. 

In  the  Legend  he  states  at  the  outset  that  he  intends  to 
"take  the  tenour"  both  from  the  "Eneid"  and  from  "Naso." 
And  at  the  close  of  the  poem,  Ovid  is  referred  to  as  "myn 
autour,"  and  the  first  eight  lines  of  the  epistle  Dido  Aeneae 
are  translated. 

The  influence  of  Vergil  on  the  Hous  of  Fame  is  not  bounded 
by  the  walls  of  the  temple  of  Venus.  Possibly  the  compari- 
son of  the  desert  in  which  Chaucer  found  himself  when  he 
came  "out  at  the  dores,"  with  that  of  "Libye,"  was  sug- 
gested by  the  previous  story  whose  scene  was  laid  on  the 
African  coast.  There  is  an  allusion  too  to  Tumus  and  his 
vision  of  Iris,  to  the  trumpeter  Misenus 

Of  whom  that  speketh  Virgilius, 

and  to  "Eolus,  the  god  of  winde,"  and  his  "cave  of  stoon."  ^ 

"  Her.  7.  79. 

"  Chaucer  locates  the  cave  in  Thrace.  The  adjective  Thradan 
has  been  applied  to  Boreas  in  particular  and  the  winds  in  general  by 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    55 

Some  have  suggested  that  the  name  "Ballenus"  is  an  error 
for  "Helenus,"  for  he  too  was  a  seer,  and  the  most  obvious 
explanation  of  the  name  of  the  piper  Atiteris  is  that  it  is 
merely  a  corruption  of  Vergil's  Tityrus,  a  name  which  had 
by  this  time  become  stereotyped  for  a  shepherd. 

The  most  important  suggestion  that  Chaucer  derived 
from  Vergil  for  his  Hous  of  Fame  aside  from  the  story  of  the 
Aeneid  in  Book  I,  is  the  description  of  the  appearance  of 
Lady  Fame  herself.  The  details  in  regard  to  her  house 
came  from  Ovid ;  ^^  the  conception  of  the  nature  and  func- 
tions of  Fame  is  neither  classical  nor  mediaeval.  To  Vergil 
as  to  other  classical  writers,  she  was  a  mere  bearer  of  tidings, 
usually  ill-tidings,  a  dea  foeda,  a  conception  which  was  cur- 
rent in  the  Middle  Ages  as  well.  The  Latin  word  fama 
means  ''rumor"  rather  than  "fame"  which  has  the  power 
to  determine  men's  reputations,  as  Chaucer  represents  the 
goddess.^'*  The  conditions  in  the  house  of  twigs  have  more 
resemblance  to  the  idea  of  Fame  as  Rumor,  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  struggle  between 

A  lesing  and  a  sad  soth-sawe 

was  probably  suggested  by  Vergil's  characterization  of  Fame 
as 

tarn  ficti  pravique  tenax  quam  nuntia  veri. 

(Aen.  4.  188)  '^ 

But  the  account  of  the  appearance  of  the  goddess  herself 

the  classical  writers.  See  Ovid,  Ars  Am.  2.  382;  Verg.  Aen.  12.365; 
App.  Rhod.,  Arg.  1.  953-954;  2.  427;  Val.  Flac,  Arg.  1.  596-610; 
Callim.,  Hym.  in  Del.  26. 

"  Met.  12.  39-63. 

^*  Perhaps  he  got  some  of  the  characteristics,  such  as  her  capri- 
ciousness,  the'  supphants  for  her  favor,  etc.,  from  Boethius'  descrip- 
tion of  Fortune  whom  he  associates  with  Fame. 

^^  But  cf.  Ovid,  Met.  12.  54-55. 


56  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

was  undoubtedly  due  to  the  lines  in  the  Aeneid,  as  a  com- 
parison of  the  two  passages  will  show.  When  Chaucer  en- 
tered the  hall  of  Fame,  he  saw 

A  feminyne  creature; 

That  never  formed  by  nature 

Nas  swich  another  thing  y-seye, 

For  altherfirst,  soth  for  to  saye, 

Me  thoughte  that  she  was  so  lyte, 

That  the  lengthe  of  a  cubyte 

Was  lenger  than  she  semed  be; 

But  thus  sone,  in  a  whyle,  she 

Hir  tho  so  wonderliche  streighte, 

That  with  hir  feet  she  th'erthe  reighte, 

And  with  hir  heed  she  touched  hevene, 

Ther  as  shynen  sterres  sevene. 

And  there-to  eek,  as  to  my  wit, 

I  saugh  a  gretter  wonder  yit, 

Upon  hir  eyen  to  beholde; 

But  certeyn  I  hem  never  tolde; 

For  as  fele  eyen  hadde  she 

As  fetheres  upon  foules  be, 

Or  weren  on  the  bestes  foure, 

That  goddes  trone  gunne  honoure, 

As  John  writ  in  th'apocalips. 

Hir  heer,  that  oundy  was  and  crips, 

As  burned  gold  hit  shoon  to  see. 

And  soth  to  tellen,  also  she 

Had  also  fele  up-stonding  eres 

And  tonges,  as  on  bestes  heres; 

And  on  hir  feet  wexen  saugh  I 

Partriches  winges  redely. 

With  the  addition  of  a  few  Biblical  details,  this  corresponds 
closely  to  the  Vergilian  account : 

extemplo  Libyae  magnas  it  Fama  per  urbes, 
Fama,  malum  qua  non  aliud  velocius  ullum: 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    57 

mobilitate  viget  virisque  adquirit  eundo, 

parva  metu  primo,  mox  sese  attoUit  in  auras 

ingrediturque  solo  et  caput  inter  nubila  condit. 

illam  Terra  parens  ira  inritata  deorum 

extremam,  ut  perhibent,  Coeo  Enceladoque  sororem 

progenuit  pedibus  celerem  et  pernicibus  alis, 

monstrum  horrendum,  ingens,  cui  quot  sunt  corpore  plumae, 

tot  vigiles  oculi  subter  (mirabile  dictu) 

tot  linguae,  totidem  ora  sonant,  tot  subrigit  auris. 

Chaucer  evidently  misread  perdidbus  for  pernicibus,  and 
so  transformed  the  ** swift  wings"  of  Fama  into  "partriches 
winges."  The  expression  is  rendered  correctly  in  Troilvs 
and  Criseyde,  where  he  uses  this  same  description : 

The  swifte  Fame,  whiche  that  false  thinges 

Egal  reporteth  lyk  the  thinges  trewe. 

Was  through-out  Troye  y-fled  with  preste  winges. 

On  one  of  the  pillars  in  the  House  of  Fame  stood  Vergil. 
He  was  not,  however,  with  that  group  of  writers,  Omeer, 
Dares,  Tytus,  Guido,  Gaufride,  and  "eek  he,  Lollius," 
who  were  "besy  for  to  bere  up  Troye."  His  fame  rests 
upon  another  basis. 

Ther  saugh  I  stonde  on  a  pileer 
That  was  of  tinned  yren  cleer, 
That  Latin  poete,  dan  Virgyle, 
That  bore  hath  up  a  longe  whyle 
The  fame  of  Pius  Eneas. 

**  Homer's  iron  is  admirably  represented,"  says  a  note  in 
BelFs  Chaucer,  ''as  having  been  by  Virgil  covered  over  with 
tin."  Succeeding  editors  have  repeated  this,  and  inter- 
preted it  to  mean  that  the  Aeneid  is  simply  the  Iliad  with  a 
thin  veneer  of  polish  and  brilliance.  But  it  seems  scarcely 
credible  that  one  who  admired  Vergil  as  Chaucer  evidently 


58  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

did,  would  make  a  criticism  so  unfavorable  to  the  poet 
who  heads  the  list  of  those  worthy  of  all  reverence  by  his 
"Utel  book"  of  Troilus  and  Criseyde.  Such  subtle  criticism 
would  be  a  little  too  modem  for  Chaucer,  too,  and  besides, 
"Omeer"  was  not  in  as  high  repute  in  the  Middle  Ages  as 
"Virgyle."  The  explanation  must  be  sought  elsewhere,  I 
think,  and  most  naturally  in  some  such  significance  for  tin 
as  that  which  iron  has  in  its  association  in  alchemy  with  the 
planet  Mars.  The  other  metals  spoken  of  in  this  passage 
have  some  such  meaning,  and  it  is  much  more  reasonable 
to  assign  to  the  use  of  tin  a  "scientific"  rather  than  a  literary 
significance.  Josephus  stands  on  a  pillar  of  iron  and  lead, 
the  metals  of  Mars  and  Saturn,  because  he  tells  of  wars 
and  of  dire  events  such  as  the  influence  of  Saturn  was  sup- 
posed to  cause.  Statins,  Lucan,  and  Homer  and  the  other 
writers  on  the  story  of  Troy  stand  on  iron  pillars,  for  their 
poems  tell  of  the  deeds  of  Mars.  Ovid's  column  is  of  copper, 
the  metal  of  Venus,  for  he  was  to  the  Middle  Ages  pre- 
eminently the  poet  of  love,  and  Claudian,  who  wrote  of  the 
Underworld,  appropriately  stands  on  a  pillar  of  sulphur. 
In  alchemy,  tin  has  the  same  sign  as  the  planet  Jupiter,^* 
and  in  the  Booke  of  Quinte  Essence,  there  is  a  direction  in- 
volving the  use  of  a  ''plate  of  venus  or  lubiter,"  that  is,  of 
copper  or  tin.  While  the  Aeneid  is  truly  a  record  of  strife, 
so  that  it  is  fitting  that  its  author  should  stand  on  a  pillar 
of  Mars'  metal,  its  hero,  the  "Pius  Eneas,"  is  lovis  de  gente 
suprema,  and  any  one  familiar  with  the  story  must  have 
observed  not  only  that  Jupiter's  name  is  mentioned  more 
frequently  than  that  of  any  of  the  other  gods,  but  that 
his  control  is  constant,  and  that  the  deeds  of  Mars  are  in 
almost  every  instance  directed  by  the  will  and  power  of 
the  pater  omnipoiens.    Throughout  the  poem  the  imperia 

"  See  New  English  Dictionary,  article  on  tin,  and  Skeat,  Works  of 
Chaucer,  Note  on  C.  T.,  G  820. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    59 

lovis  are  supreme;  the  divum  pater  atque  hominum  rex 
bows  only  to  the  Fates. ^^  I,  therefore,  should  emend  Bell's 
note  to  read,  ''Mars'  iron  is  admirably  represented  as  having 
been  by  Vergil  covered  over  with  the  tin  of  Jupiter." 

Gower's  story  of  the  magic  mirror  has  already  been  com- 
mented on.     He  also  showed  his  acquaintance  with  that 
class  of  legends  which  associated  Vergil  with  women,  most 
of  them  not  very  complimentary  to  the  poet.     In  the  eighth 
book  of  the  Confessio  Amantis,  Elde  comes  into  the  presence 
of  Venus  accompanied  by  David,  Solomon,  Samson,  Vergil, 
and  Ovid,  all  old  men  who  had  been  servants  to  love. 
And  ek  Virgile  of  aquaintance 
I  sih,  wher  he  the  maiden  preide, 
Which  was  the  doghter,  as  men  seide, 
Of  themperour  whilom  of  Rome. 

He  was  probably  thinking  here  of  the  story,  told  in  detail 
by  Stephen  Hawes,^*  of  how  Vergil  was  once  placed  in  an 
awkward  position  by  the  emperor's  daughter  with  whom 
he  was  carrying  on  a  flirtation.  She  had  promised  to  draw 
him  up  to  her  window  in  a  basket,  but  when  she  got  him 
halfway  up,  left  him  swinging  in  the  air,  to  be  the  laughing- 
stock of  the  whole  city.  In  revenge  he,  by  his  magic  powers, 
put  out  all  the  fires  in  Rome.  One  version,  however,  tells 
how  Vergil  outwitted  the  princess,  for,  having  learned  be- 
forehand of  her  intentions,  he  caused  one  of  his  famiHar  spirits 
to  take  his  place  in  the  basket,  and  the  fiend  was  perfectly 
capable  of  extricating  himself  from  the  predicament. 

These  two  stories  show  how  far  Gower  was  from  Chaucer 
in  any  real  sympathy  with  the  author  of  the  Aeneid.  For 
the  Vergilian  element  in  his  poetry  is  practically  included 

"  SeeAen.  2.  326,  689;  1.  257-296;  4. 198-278,  331,  614;  5.  687-699, 
726,  747;  9.  77-122,  128-9,  630-1,  801-5;  10.  606-27;  12.  565,  791-842, 
895.  18  Pastime  of  Pleasure,  chap.  XXIX. 


60  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

within  their  limits.  He  does  tell  the  story  of  Aeneas  and 
Dido,^^  but  he  owes  it  almost  entirely  to  Ovid,  for  the  passage 
is  chiefly  concerned  with  the  letter  written  by  the  deserted 
queen.  No  one  could  deny  that  he  knew  the  Aeneidy  but  it 
is  clear  that  Ovid  was  his  favorite  author.  He  refers  to  the 
war  with  Tumus,  but  this  is  also  probably  from  Ovid  rather 
than  from  Vergil,  the  marginal  summary  being  a  virtual 
translation  of  a  few  lines  in  the  Metamorphoses}^  In  his 
Latin  poetry,  too,  there  are  innumerable  Ovidian  echoes, 
whereas  definite  Vergilian  influence  is  practically  lacking. 
Chaucer^s  contemporaries,  however,  were  not  so  ignorant 
of  Vergil  as  to  be  unable  to  use  him  as  a  standard,  for  Hoc- 
cleve,  in  his  Regiment  of  Princes^  in  the  famous  address  to 
Chaucer,  after  comparing  him  to  Cicero  in  ^'rhethorik," 
and  to  Aristotle  in  ''philosophic,"  says, 

the  steps  of  Virgile  in  poesie 
Thow  filwedest  eeke. 

Another  phase  of  the  mediaeval  tradition  still  surviving 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  is  to  be  found  in  the  opening  sen- 
tences of  Gawain  and  the  Greene  Knight.  "After  the  siege 
and  the  assault  of  Troy,  when  that  burg  was  destroyed  and 
burnt  to  ashes,  and  the  traitor  tried  for  his  treason,  the 
noble  Aeneas  and  his  kin  sailed  forth  to  become  princes 
and  patrons  of  well-nigh  all  the  Western  Isles."  ^^  Here  is 
evident  that  inconsistency  in  the  character  of  Aeneas  that 
is  found  in  the  Middle  Ages.    According  to  the  accounts  of 

"  C<mS.  Am.  4.  5.  «"  Met.  14.  449-451. 

**  Sil)en  l)e  sege  and  lie  assaut  wat3  sesed  at  Troye, 
Pe  bor3  brittened  and  brent  to  bronde}  andaskej, 
Pe  tulk  l)at  1)6  trammes  of  tresoun  l)er  wro3t, 
Wat  3  tried  for  his  tricherie,  \)G  trewest  on  erthe; 
Hit  wat3  Ennias  ))e  athel,  and  his  highe  kinde, 
Pat  8il>en  depreced  prouinces,  and  patrounes  become 
Welne3e  of  al  l)e  wele  in  ^  west  iles. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    61 

Dares  and  Dictys,  of  Benoit  and  Guido,  and  of  Joseph  of 
Exeter,  who  constituted  the  mediaeval  authorities  for  the 
story  of  the  fall  of  Troy,  Antenor  and  Aeneas  were  respon- 
sible for  the  plot  that  caused  the  destruction  of  the  city. 
On  the  other  hand,  Aeneas  was  the  founder  of  the  Roman 
nation,  and  so  indirectly  of  nearly  all  the  other  nations  of 
Europe,  and  such  a  blot  on  his  fame  as  compUcity  in  the 
plot  for  the  overthrow  of  Troy,  was  a  difficult  stain  to 
eradicate.  Hence  many  authors  glossed  over  or  disregarded 
entirely  his  part  in  the  transaction,  Antenor  became  the 
arch-traitor. 

The  tulk  that  the  trammes  of  tresoun  ther  wroht, 

and  the  subsequent  adventures  of  Aeneas  were  stressed,  as 
they  are  in  these  lines  of  Gawain  and  the  Greene  Knight, 

The  conflict  was  carried  on  into  the  fifteenth  century.** 
Lydgate's  Troy  Booky  one  of  a  long  series  of  versions  of  the 
mediaeval  Troy  story,  is  professedly  based  on  the  Latin 
prose  narrative  of  Guido  delle  Colonne,  and  accordingly  tells 
at  length  of  the  plot  of  Antenor  and  Aeneas.  There  follows 
a  passage  of  nearly  thirty  lines,  in  which  Lydgate  summa- 
rizes the  story  of  the  Aeneid,  with  the  conclusion, 

Ye  may  al  seen,  by  ful  sovereyn  style 
From  point  to  point  compiled  in  Virgile, 
Written  and  made  sithen  go  ful  yore; 
For  Troie  boke  speketh  of  hym  no  more.^ 

This  is  obviously  an  attempt  to  reconcile  the  two  narratives 
by  the  expedient  of  calling  VergiFs  account  a  mere  continua- 
tion of  Guido's.     The  difficulty  here,  however,  is  not  insur- 

**  And  even  into  the  sixteenth.  See  William  Warner,  Albion's 
England,  chap.  XIII,  and  Addition  in  Proese  to  the  Second  Booke. 
Dante  too  had  been  distressed  by  the  fact  that  Julius  Caesar,  founder 
of  the  Empire,  had  driven  Cato  into  exile.     See,  e.g.,  Conv.  iii.  5. 

"  Troy  Book,  4.  1434  fif. 


62  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

mountable,  for  Lydgate  bestows  no  word  of  praise  upon 
Aeneas,  not  even  the  one  word  "noble,"  like  the  Gawain 
poet,  but  with  inherited  romantic  sympathy  with  Dido, 
calls  him  the  man  that  "falsede  .  .  .  Dido,  of  womman- 
hede  flour." 

Lydgate's  Fall  of  Princes  was  a  translation  of  Boccaccio's 
popular  book,  De  Casibus  Virorum  Illustrium,  so  that  the 
Monk  of  Bury  cannot  be  held  responsible  for  anything  that 
occurs  there.  It  is  interesting  to  note,  however,  that  the 
story  of  the  Salvatio  Romae,  told  in  connection  with  the 
Pantheon  at  Rome,  and  without  mention  of  Vergil,  finds 
a  place  in  ''Bochas,"  and  that  here  too  is  that  curious  alter- 
native version  of  the  death  of  Dido,  which  is  told  in  Caxton's 
Eneydos. 

Caxton's  book  is  one  of  his  numerous  translations  from 
the  French,  and  was  printed  at  Westminster  in  1490.  His 
original  was  probably  the  Livre  des  Eneydes,  printed  at  Lyons 
by  Guillaume  le  Roy  in  1483.  It  has  no  title-page,  but  the 
colophon  runs  as  follows:  ''Here  fynyssheth  the  boke  of 
Eneydos,  compyled  by  Vyrgyle,  whiche  hathe  be  translated 
oute  of  latyne  in  to  frenshe.  And  oute  of  frenshe  reduced  in  to 
Englysshe  by  me  Wyllm  Caxton."  The  French,  however, 
was  far  from  a  translation  of  the  Aeneid,  though  most  of  the 
incidents  and  much  of  the  language  are  based  directly  on 
the  Latin.  But  as  was  the  case  in  the  Romans  d^ Eneas ^ 
the  writer  treated  his  original  with  the  utmost  freedom,  and 
expanded,  abridged,  added,  omitted,  and  changed  the 
order  of  events  at  will.  The  story  begins,  in  the  true  mediae- 
val fashion,  at  the  beginning.  After  telling  of  the  building 
of  Troy  by  Priam,  who  in  all  other  versions  was  the  last  king 
of  that  city,  but  here  is  represented  as  the  original  founder, 
it  proceeds  to  the  story  of  Polydorus'  death  and  burial. 
Omitting  all  mention  of  Sinon,  the  wooden  horse,  Laocoon, 
and  the  loss  of  Creusa,  it  tells  of  the  departure  of  Aeneas, 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    63 

and  of  his  adventures  up  to  the  time  of  the  storm.  Then 
the  author  relates  Boccaccio's  story  of  Dido,  marveling  that 
he  did  not  follow  the  version  of  Vergil.  '*I  was  abasshed," 
he  says,  "and  had  grete  merveylle  how  bochace,  whiche 
is  an  auctour  so  gretly  renommed,  hath  transposed,  or  atte 
leste  dyversifyed,  the  falle  and  caas  otherwyse  than  vyrgyle 
hath  in  his  fourth  booke  of  Eneydos.  ...  I  have  enter- 
prysed  fyrste  and  to-fore,  for  better,  and  to  understande 
the  mater,  I  have  purposed  to  recyte  here  the  caas  and  falle 
after  the  oppynyon  of  lohn  bocace."  Up  to  the  founding 
of  the  city  of  Carthage,  the  two  accounts  are  very  similar. 
But  Dido's  death,  according  to  Boccaccio,  had  nothing  to 
do  with  Aeneas.  She  was  wooed  by  a  powerful  neighboring 
king,  but,  still  true  to  her  first  husband,  she  did  not  wish 
to  marry  him.  He  uttered  such  dire  threats  against  the 
state,  however,  that  her  subjects  were  made  desperate. 
By  misrepresenting  the  situation  to  her,  so  that  she  thought 
that  a  neighboring  king  wished  one  of  her  men  to  come  to 
his  court,  they  drew  from  her  the  statement  that  everyone 
should  be  willing  to  sacrifice  himself  for  his  country.  Then 
they  told  her  the  true  state  of  affairs,  and  she,  in  distress, 
asked  for  three  months  to  consider  the  proposal.  At  the 
end  of  this  time,  still  unwilling  to  marry,  but  dreading  to 
bring  upon  her  people  the  consequences  of  a  refusal,  she 
built  a  huge  pyre  in  the  midst  of  the  city  on  pretense  of 
making  a  sacrifice,  and  slew  herself  thereon,  in  the  presence 
of  her  subjects.^    After  this  version  of  the  story,  the  French 

24  See  Justin,  Historiae,  Bk.  xviii,  chaps.  4,  5,  6.  Cf.  Jerome, 
Adv.  Jov.  I.  43  and  Ausonius,  Ep.  118.  7.  Turbervile  translated  this 
Epigram  imder  the  title  Of  Dido  and  the  Truth  of  her  Death.  See  also 
Warner,  Addition  in  Proese  to  the  Second  Booke  of  Albion's  England. 
According  to'  all  historians,  Dido  and  Aeneas  could  not  have  been 
contemporaries,  and  the  critics  have  at  various  times  expended  much 
labor  in  defending  Vergil's  anachronism.  Boccaccio's  account  there- 
fore is  more  likely  to  be  historically  correct  than  Vergil's. 


64  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

translator  puts  the  account  given  by  Vergil,  following  his 
original  fairly  closely  in  the  general  outlines,  but  diverging 
in  some  details  and  expanding  enormously,  thus  naturally 
detracting  from  the  forcefulness  and  dignity  of  the  Latin. 
The  story  up  through  the  death  of  Dido  occupies  over  two 
thirds  of  the  entire  narrative. 

The  funeral  games  in  the  fifth  book  of  the  Aeneid  are 
assigned  only  a  few  lines  in  the  Eneydos.  The  incident  of 
the  burning  of  the  ships  is  told  at  length,  and  the  mention 
of  the  temple  of  Apollo  in  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  book  of 
Vergil  is  the  starting-point  for  a  long  digression  on  the 
stories  of  Daedalus  and  Minos  of  Crete.  The  descent  to 
Avernus,  however,  is  disposed  of  in  a  few  words  of  disbelief 
and  disapproval.  "There  dwelled  the  goddesse  Cryspyne,^* 
whiche  shulde  have  brought  eneas  in-to  helle,  .  .  .  but  this 
mater  I  leve,  for  it  is  fayned,  and  not  to  be  bylevyd.  who 
that  will  knowe  how  eneas  wente  to  helle,  late  hym  rede 
virgyle,  claudyan,  or  the  pistelles  of  Ovyde,  &  there  he  shall 
fynde  more  than  trouthe.  For  whiche  cause  I  leve  it  and 
wryte  not  of  it."  With  this  it  is  interesting  to  compare 
Chaucer's  omission  of  the  bulk  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  books, 
and  his  unwillingness  to  admit  the  truth  of  any  of  the  super- 
natural events.  The  writer  of  the  Eneydos  consistently 
omits  all  such  elements  in  the  last  six  books,  which  he 
otherwise  follows  as  closely  as  may  be  expected.  There  is 
no  mention  of  the  activities  of  Juno  or  Allecto,  of  the  chang- 
ing of  the  ships  into  sea-nymphs,  or  of  the  marvelous  armor 
which  was  the  gift  of  Venus  to  her  son.  The  spectral 
image  of  Aeneas,  which  lured  Tumus  on  board  one  of  the 
ships,  is  attributed,  not  to  Juno,  but  to  the  Fiend  !^    After 

»»  The  French  has  here  "crespie,"  which  might  mean  "wrinkled," 
referring  to  Vergil's  longaeva  sacerdos.  Caxton  evidently  thought  it 
was  the  name  of  the  Sibyl. 

*•  Cf.  the  treatment  of  the  supernatural  events  in  the  Pkarsalia  in 
the  mediaeval  Uves  of  Caesar. 


CHAUCER,  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  AND  HIS  IMITATORS    65 

the  death  of  Tumus,  which  closes  the  Aeneid^  the  author 
of  the  EneydeSf  inspired  by  the  same  desire  for  complete- 
ness which  animated  Maphaeus  Vegius,  gives  in  three  addi- 
tional chapters,  the  subsequent  history  of  Aeneas  and  Lavinia, 
and  a  list  of  the  Alban  kings. 

This  analysis  of  the  Eneydos  has  been  given,  partly  for 
comparison  with  Chaucer,  a  century  earlier,  and  partly  to 
show  the  enormous  strides  forward  which  were  taken  by 
Gavin  Douglas,  Caxton's  arch-critic,  twenty-five  years 
later.  This  book,  the  first  version  of  the  Aeneid  in  Eng- 
land in  the  vernacular,  seems  separated  by  far  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century  from  Douglas'  Virgil,  the  first  real 
translation  of  the  Roman  epic  in  the  English  tongue.  It 
was  the  revival  of  classical  learning  under  the  humanists 
which  wrought  this  great  change  in  the  attitude  toward 
Vergil. 


CHAPTER  IV 
VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM 

In  general,  the  humanistic  revival  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury brought  into  English  hterature  a  closer  adherence  to 
fact  in  its  treatment  of  the  classics.  The  distortions  and 
mistaken  emphasis  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries 
are  much  less  marked  in  the  sixteenth.  Although  Sidney  be- 
heved  that  the  Aeneas  of  Dares  Phrygius  was  the  "right 
Aeneas,"  and  that  of  Vergil  the  ''feigned,"  he  felt  that  the 
Aeneid  should  be  read,  and  that  it  could  be  read  with  profit. 
He  himself  gave  evidence  of  a  ready  famiharity  with  the 
classics,  including  Vergil,  by  allusions  and  quotations,  the 
very  inaccuracy  of  some  of  which  indicates  that  he  is  quot- 
ing from  a  well-stored  memory.  The  constant  presence  of 
quotations  and  echoes  in  Ehzabethan  prose  and  poetry  is 
an  answer  to  his  query,  ''Who  is  it  that  ever  was  a  scholar 
that  doth  not  carry  away  some  verses  of  Virgil,  Horace,  or 
Cato,  which  in  his  youth  he  learned,  and  even  to  his  old 
age  serve  him  for  hourly  lessons?" 

For  this  familiar  use  of  Latin  and  Greek  was  based  upon 
the  new  classical  education  of  the  humanists.  Radical 
changes  had  been  made  in  material  and  method  from  the 
schools  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  in  order  to  understand  thor- 
oughly the  entrance  of  this  new  material  into  the  literature 
of  the  Renaissance,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  first  the 
new  cultural  background  made  possible  by  the  schools  and 
colleges  of  sixteenth  century  England,  in  contrast  with  that 
created  by  the  work  in  the  mediaeval  Universities,  and  then 
to  examine  the  literature  itself. 

The  controversy  over  the  relative  merits  of  the  Ancients 

66 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  67 

and  the  Modems  is  not  a  thing  of  modern  growth.  It  is 
far  older  than  the  time  of  Swift.  A  thirteenth  century  battle 
of  the  books  was  waged  on  the  pages  of  Henri  d'Andeli's 
Battle  of  the  Seven  Arts,  in  which  the  forces  of  Grammar  from 
Orleans,  among  whom  Vergil  bore  a  lance  in  company  with 
other  classics,  were  routed  by  the  army  of  Logic,  aided  by 
Civil  and  Canon  Law,  the  ''New  Aristotle"  being  a  promi- 
nent warrior  on  their  side.  And  this  battle  and  its  outcome 
are  typical  of  the  educational  situation  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
Chartres  was  the  main  stronghold  of  classical  culture  on 
the  continent  in  the  twelfth  century,  Orleans  in  the  early 
part  of  the  thirteenth,  but  they  could  not  hold  their  own 
against  Paris  and  Bologna.  John  of  Salisbury,  that  power- 
ful advocate  and  preeminent  example  of  the  value  of  a 
classical  training,  tells  in  the  Metalogicus  of  his  education 
at  Chartres  under  the  instruction  of  Bernard,  but  the  time 
soon  came  when,  as  Rashdall  says,  ''Aristotle  was  accepted 
as  a  well-nigh  final  authority.  .  .  .  The  awakened  intellect 
of  Europe  busied  itself  with  expounding,  analyzing  and 
debating  the  new  treasures  unfolded  before  its  eyes,  and 
the  Classics  dropped  again,  for  the  mass  of  students  whose 
reading  was  bounded  by  the  prescribed  curriculum  of  the 
Universities,  into  the  obscurity  from  which  they  had  for 
a  brief  period  emerged.  .  .  .  For  the  attainment  of  the 
Mastership  in  the  Liberal  Arts,  Logic  and  Philosophy  were 
the  essential  requisites:  and  at  that  early  period  in  the 
history  of  the  examiuation  system  it  was  soon  found  that  the 
establishment  of  a  prescribed  curriculum  of  studies  and 
the  offer  of  a  premium  to  those  who  pursue  it  is  fatal  to  all 
subjects   excluded    therefrom."  ^    And    Vergil,    along   with 

*  Hastings  Rashdall,  The  Universities  of  Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
Oxford,  1895. ,  Vol.  I,  pp.  68,  69.  The  exclusion  of  Aristotle  here  and 
elsewhere  from  the  company  of  the  "  Classics,"  means  simply  that  his 
works  were  studied,  not  as  Uterature,  but  as  textbooks  in  Logic  and 
Philosophy. 


68  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

other  Roman  writers,  was  so  excluded.  John  Garland, 
master  of  Grammar  at  Paris  in  the  first  half  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  voiced  the  last  plea  for  the  restoration  of 
classical  studies  at  his  University.  His,  however,  was  a 
solitary  voice.  "The  comparison,"  says  Rashdall,  '*of 
John  of  Salisbury's  account  of  his  education  in  the  first  half 
of  the  twelfth  century  with  the  earliest  University  Statute 
at  the  beginning  of  the  next  century,  enables  us  to  trace 
the  startling  rapidity  of  this  decHne  in  literary  culture. 
Grammar  is  prescribed  as  one  of  the  subjects  of  the  Examina- 
tion, but  Granunar  is  represented  solely  by  the  works  of 
Priscian  and  Donatus.  Rhetoric  receives  hardly  more  than 
a  comphmentary  recognition:  the  Classics  are  not  taken 
up  at  all.  The  student's  whole  attention  is  concentrated 
upon  Logic  and  Aristotle.  Boys  in  Grammar  Schools  might 
still  learn  their  Grammar  by  construing  Ovid  or  *Cato,' 
but  henceforth  the  poets,  the  historians,  the  orators  of 
ancient  Rome  were  considered  unworthy  of  the  attention 
of  ripe  students  of  fourteen  or  sixteen  in  the  University 
Schools."  2 

These  statements  are  based  upon  an  examination  of  the 
curricula  indicated  in  University  statutes  and  in  certain 
time-tables  of  the  arrangement  of  lectures  which  filled  a 
student's  day.  We  know,  for  instance,  from  the  list  of 
books  prescribed  for  the  degrees  of  A.B.  and  A.M.  in  Paris 
in  1254,  that  Aristotle  was  the  chief  author  whom  they  were 
required  to  study,  and  that  Vergil  appears  to  have  found 
no  place  in  the  curriculum.  The  same  thing  is  true  of  Paris 
in  1366,  of  Oxford  in  1267  and  1408,  and  of  Leipzig  in  1410. 
The  course  of  study  at  Oxford  was  much  like  that  at  Paris, 
although  in  theory  the  trivium  and  quadrivium  were  still 
regarded  as  a  part  of  the  requirement  for  the  A.M.  degree. 
Yet  they  did  not  appear  in  the  formal  list  of  studies.  In 
»  Rashdall,  Op.  cU.,  Vol.  I,  pp.  71,  72. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  69 

1431  at  Oxford,  however,  the  curriculum  of  the  candidate 
for  a  Master's  degree  must  include  "rhetoricam  per  tres 
terminos,  videlicet  rheioricam  Aristotehs,  seu  quartam 
Topicorum  Boethii,  aut  TulUum  in  nova  rhetorica,  vel  Ovi- 
dium  Metamorphoseos  sive  poetriam  Virgilii,"  an  interesting 
indication  of  the  slow  return  of  the  Latin  classics.  But 
Aristotle  was  still  the  favorite.  Not  only  is  he  placed  at  the 
head  of  such  a  list  as  that  given  above,  but  there  is  a  record 
that  in  1448  a  Bachelor  at  Oxford  begged  that  a  lecture 
upon  the  Georgics  of  Vergil  which  had  been  imposed  upon 
him  be  changed  to  one  upon  the  De  Anima.  The  method 
of  classroom  procedure  in  the  Middle  Ages,  too,  was  not 
conducive  to  any  intimate  knowledge  of  the  authors  read. 
On  account  of  the  diflSiCulty  of  procuring  manuscripts,  the 
students  were  usually  unsupphed  with  copies  of  the  text. 
The  lecturer,  therefore,  read  the  book  aloud,  pausing  fre- 
quently and  at  great  length  to  read  the  comments  of  learned 
men  upon  the  passage,  which  usually  appeared  in  the  form 
of  a  marginal  gloss,  and  to  add  some  remarks  of  his  own. 
In  this  way,  the  original  words  of  the  writer  were  frequently 
nearly  lost  and  forgotten  in  the  midst  of  such  a  wilderness  of 
comment.  One  of  the  things  insisted  upon  by  the  humanists 
was  a  careful  study  of  the  texts  themselves,  with  resultant 
formation  of  independent  judgment  based  upon  personal 
knowledge. 

At  the  close  of  his  poem.  The  Battle  of  the  Seven  ArtSj 
Henri  d'Andeli  prophesies  thus: 

Sirs,  the  times  are  given  to  emptiness; 
Soon  they  will  go  entirely  to  naught, 
For  thirty  years  this  will  continue. 
Until  a  new  generation  will  arise, 
.  Who  will  go  back  to  Grammar.' 

'  Henri  d'Andeli,  Battle  of  the  Seven  Arts.     Edited  and  translated 
by  Louis  John  Paetow.     Univ.  of  Cal.  1914.     U.  450-54. 


70  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

But  in  spite  of  the  protests  of  men  like  John  of  Salisbury, 
Alexander  Neckam,  John  Garland,  Gerald  de  Barri,  and 
Henri  d'Andeli,  it  was  much  more  than  thirty  years  before 
the  New  Learning  may  be  said  to  have  begun.  D'Andeli's 
poem  was  probably  written  in  the  second  quarter  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  it  is  from  the  classical  studies  of 
Petrarch,  nearly  a  century  later,  that  we  date  the  revival 
of  the  interest  in  the  ancient  authors.  And  although  the 
poet  looked  to  the  North  for  the  coming  of  the  "new  genera- 
tion," and  believed  that  no  good  could  come  out  of  Lom- 
bardy,  yet  it  was  in  Italy  that  the  ''first  modern  man" 
was  bom. 

Although  Petrarch  was  not  primarily  an  educator,  his 
influence  was  nevertheless  very  great.  His  revolt  against 
scholasticism,  his  successful  search  for  Ciceronian  texts, 
his  love  and  understanding  of  the  classical  writers  which 
made  them  his  friends  rather  than  merely  the  authors  of 
texts  to  be  studied,  all  pointed  the  way  which  later  peda- 
gogues followed  in  their  writings  and  in  their  classroom 
practice.  Schoolmasters  like  Vittorino  da  Feltre,  who 
taught  in  the  ''Pleasant  House"  at  Mantua,  a  city  full  of 
the  memories  of  Vergil,  Guarini,  who  lectured  on  Greek  and 
Latin  literature  at  Ferrara,  and  Politian  at  Florence,  all  in- 
cluded Vergil  in  their  courses.  Treatises  like  the  De  Ldber- 
orum  EdiuxLiione  of  Aeneas  Sylvius  advocated  the  study  of 
the  classics,  and  Maffeo  Vegio,  the  author  of  the  thirteenth 
book  of  the  Aeneid,  laid  special  emphasis  on  the  importance 
of  studying  Vergil  in  his  De  Educaiione  Liherorum.  He  still 
clung  to  the  old  allegorical  interpretation  of  his  poems,  as 
did  Petrarch  also,  but  he  put  himself  on  record  as  Vergil's 
defender  against  all  attacks. 

The  cause  of  the  ancient  classics  was  helped  along  by  the 
introduction  of  the  study  of  Greek  into  Italy.  Pilatus,  the 
instructor  of  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio,  and  Chrysoloras  were 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  71 

among  the  first  to  bring  the  language  across  the  Adriatic, 
and  the  latter  gathered  about  him  many  pupils  who  even- 
tually spread  the  new  study  all  over  Europe.  But  un- 
fortunately for  the  literary  supremacy  of  Italy,  her  scholars 
eventually  ran  their  classicism  into  a  formalism  which 
checked  spontaneity,  and  justified  to  a  certain  extent  Nor- 
den's  seemingly  paradoxical  remark  that  the  humanists 
killed  the  Latin  language. 

Meanwhile  humanism  was  moving  north.  Already  in 
the  fourteenth  century,  classicism  was  revived  at  Paris 
under  Nicolas  of  Clemangis,  with  a  strong  protest  against 
the  scholastic  method.  In  the  fifteenth  century,  German 
educators  hke  Hegius,  Wessel,  Agricola  and  von  Lange, 
were  revolting  against  scholasticism,  and  there  were  two 
opposing  parties  in  the  Universities,  with  the  humanist  faction 
steadily  growing  in  power.  Here  the  aim  of  most  of  the 
humanists,  like  Wimpfeling,  was  to  use  the  new-found  knowlr 
edge  as  the  basis  of  social  and  religious  reform.  But  here  too 
the  study  of  the  classics  degenerated  in  the  later  Renais- 
sance into  a  formal  Ciceronianism,  the  chief  object  of  which 
was  to  impart  a  perfect  Latin  style  after  the  manner  of  the 
great  prose  master  of  Rome.  The  emphasis  in  the  cur- 
ricula of  the  Gymnasien  was  definitely  placed  on  the  careful 
study  of  Cicero,  almost  to  the  exclusion  of  other  writers. 
And  the  study  of  all  the  classics  became  narrow,  confining 
itself  to  drill  in  Latin  Grammar,  and  a  detailed  examination, 
both  grammatical  and  rhetorical,  of  Cicero,  Ovid,  Terence, 
Vergil,  and  the  historians,  with  the  redeeming  trait  of  requir- 
ing close  application  to  the  texts  themselves. 

The  story  of  the  coming  of  humanism  to  England  is  well 
known,  and  the  names  of  Erasmus,  Colet,  Sir  Thomas  More, 
and  the  scarcely  less  familiar  ones  of  Selling,  Linacre,  Grocyn, 
and  Lyly,  mark  a  period  of  intense  enthusiasm  for  the  new 
learning,  and  of  a  belief,  especially  on  the  part  of  Colet, 


72  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

the  founder  of  the  famous  school  for  boys  at  the  eastern 
end  of  St.  Paul's  churchyard,  that  the  knowledge  of  Latin 
and  Greek  could  best  be  used  to  further  the  familiarity  of 
the  common  people  with  the  Scriptures.  It  was,  however, 
largely  an  academic  revival  of  the  interest  in  Greek  and 
Latin,  and  the  classics  were  not  yet  assimilated  in  vernac- 
ular literature.  It  was  Lyly's  Grammar^  used  for  many 
years  in  the  schools,  which  was  representative  of  this  aca- 
demic nature  of  the  classical  enthusiasm  of  these  years, 
while  the  allusions  in  the  dramas  of  his  grandson,  John, 
show  that  in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth  the  appeal  of  the 
classics  was  no  longer  merely  to  scholars.  The  path  of  those 
who,  like  Cheke  and  Ascham,  were  endeavoring  to  carry 
on  the  torch  lighted  by  Erasmus  and  his  contemporaries 
was  by  no  means  free  from  obstructions.  The  opponents 
of  the  study  of  Greek  called  themselves  the  Trojans,  and 
assumed  the  names  of  Priam,  Hector,  and  Paris.  Tyndale 
tells  how  they  showed  in  their  pulpits  their  opposition  to 
the  study  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew,  ''some  beating 
the  pulpit  with  their  fists  for  madness,  and  roaring  out  with 
open  and  foaming  mouth,  that  if  there  were  but  one  Terence 
or  Virgil  in  the  world,  and  that  same  in  their  sleeves,  and  a 
fire  before  them,  they  would  burn  them  therein,  though 
it  should  cost  them  their  lives." 

But  all  their  violence  could  not  stop  entirely  the  progress 
of  humanistic  education.  And  the  reading  of  Vergil,  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  was  rare  in  the  preceding  centuries,  so  that 
Chaucer's  knowledge  of  him  stands  out  as  remarkable, 
was  now  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of  the  curriculum 
of  both  school  and  college.  His  works  were  read,  not  only 
for  their  poetic  beauty,  but  for  their  practical  value  as  well. 
Cardinal  Wolsey,  who  endowed  a  school  at  Ipswich  and  a 
college  at  Oxford,  planned  the  course  of  study  for  the  boys 
in  the  school  himself.    The   classes  at   Ipswich  were  to 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  73 

study  in  succession  Cato,  Aesop  and  Terence,  and  in  the 
fourth  year, ''Virgil  himself,  of  all  poets  the  chief,  .  .  .  whose 
verses  should  be  read  with  a  beautiful  sonorous  voice,  so 
that  their  majesty  may  be  better  felt,"  and  after  Vergil, 
Cicero,  Sallust,  Caesar,  Horace,  and  Ovid. 

Copies  have  come  down  to  us  of  the  time-tables  of  classes 
at  Eton  and  at  Winchester  about  1530.  At  the  former  school, 
the  fourth  form  on  Friday  and  Saturday  read  ''Vergilii 
buccolica,"  and  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  forms,  on  the 
same  days,  ''Vergilii  Eneis."  For  the  fifth  form  at  Win- 
chester, "There  constructyons  is  throwgh  owte  ye  weke 
unto  fryday  Vergills  Eglogs  &  an  other."  The  page  de- 
tailing the  work  of  the  higher  forms  is  lost,  but  undoubtedly 
they  too  read  ''Vergilii  Eneis."  The  time-table  of  West- 
minster School  thirty  years  later  includes  Vergil  and  Homer 
for  the  sixth  and  seventh  forms.  The  school  statutes  of  the 
Free  Grammar  School  of  St.  Bees  in  Cumberland,  drawn 
up  in  1583,  include  Vergil  in  the  curriculum.  And  finally, 
Charles  Hoole's  New  Discovery  of  the  Old  Art  of  Teaching 
SchoolCf  published  in  1659,  but  written  in  1636,  while  it 
suggests  new  methods  of  teaching,  gives  a  fist  of  the  books 
which  were  then  and  had  been  for  many  years  in  use  in  the 
grammar  schools  throughout  the  country,  a  list  which 
includes  Vergil,  Ovid,  Cicero,  Horace,  Seneca,  and  Terence, 
as  well  as  some  of  the  Latin  writers  of  the  Renaissance. 

Meanwhile,  writers  like  Sir  Thomas  Elyot  and  Roger 
Ascham  were  advocating  the  study  of  Vergil.  He  must  be 
studied,  says  Elyot  in  his  Boke  Called  the  Gouernour,  and  it 
will  prove  an  enchantment.  ''What  thinge  can  be  more 
familiar  than  his  bucolikes?  nor  no  wark  so  nigh  approcheth 
to  the  commune  daliaunce  and  maners  of  children,  and  the 
praty  controversies  of  the  simple  shepherds,  therin  con- 
tained, wonderfully  rejoyceth  the  childe  that  hereth  hit 
well  declared  as  I  knowe  by  myne  owne  experience.     In 


74  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

his  Georgikes,  Lorde!  what  plesaunt  varietie  there  is: 
the  divers  graynes,  herbes,  and  flowers  that  be  there  de- 
scribed, that  reding  therin,  hit  semeth  to  a  man  to  be  in  a 
delectable  gardeine  or  paradise;  what  ploughe  man  knoweth 
so  moche  of  husbandry  as  there  is  expressed?" 

The  study  of  the  classics  did  not  stop  with  the  grammar 
schools  as  it  had  done  in  the  Middle  Ages.  While  Aristotle 
and  scholasticism  were  not  driven  immediately  from  the 
Universities,  yet  new  colleges  were  founded  in  both  great 
institutions  of  higher  education  whose  special  purpose 
was  the  fostering  of  the  new  learning.  In  the  late  fifteenth 
century  Petrarch  was  being  read  at  Cambridge,  an  indica- 
tion that  an  interest  in  the  classics  was  beginning,  and 
permission  was  given  for  a  vacation  lecture  on  Terence.  In 
1506  Christ's  College  was  founded,  where  the  honae  artes 
were  to  be  studied,  and  a  college  lecturer  to  give  lectures 
on  the  ''works  of  poets  and  orators."  In  1540  the  Regius 
Professorships  were  founded,  and  Ascham,  writing  to  a 
friend  a  few  years  later,  says,  ''Cambridge  is  quite  another 
place,  so  substantially  and  splendidly  has  it  been  endowed 
by  the  royal  munificence."  Going  on  to  speak  of  the 
study  of  Greek,  he  says,  "Sophocles  and  Euripides  are  more 
familiar  authors  than  Plautus  was  in  your  time."  But  he 
continues,  "Nor  do  we  disregard  the  Latin  authors,  but 
study  with  the  greatest  zeal  the  choicest  writers  of  the  best 
period."  And  in  1546,  Trinity  College  was  founded  to  be 
a  college  of  literature,  the  sciences,  philosophy,  the  "good 
arts,"  and  sacred  theology.'* 

Nor  was  Oxford  much  behind.  The  addition  to  the 
curriculum  in  1431  of  the  alternatives  of  Cicero,  Ovid,  and 
Vergil,  has  already  been  mentioned.  In  1517  was  char- 
tered  Corpus   Christi  College.     "The  statutes  of  Corpus 

*  See  J.  B.  Mullinger,  A  History  of  the  University  of  Cambridge. 
Vol.  I,  pp.  433  ff. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  75 

Christi  College/'  says  Lyiie  in  his  History  of  Oxford,  "show 
very  plainly  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance.  In  the  very 
first  section,  there  is  an  apology  for  the  use  of  barbarous 
words  not  known  to  Cicero.  Some  acquaintance  with  the 
works  of  Roman  poets,  orators,  and  historians,  no  less  than 
with  logic  and  philosophy  is  required  of  all  candidates  for 
scholarships.  .  .  .  Cicero,  Sallust,  Valerius  Maximus,  Sue- 
tonius, Pliny,  Livy,  and  Quintilian  are  enumerated  as  the 
prose  writers,  and  Virgil,  Ovid,  Lucan,  Juvenal,  Terence, 
and  Plautus,  as  the  poets  to  be  expounded  by  the  lecturer 
on  humanity."  There  was  also  to  be  a  lecturer  on  Greek 
grammar  and  literature,  *'an  officer  unknown  in  any  earlier 
college."  ^ 

And  this  training  in  the  schools  and  colleges  evidently 
made  the  reading  of  Vergil  popular.  For  the  day-book 
of  John  Dome,  an  Oxford  book-seller,  indicates  that  the 
text  of  Vergil  was  in  great  demand.  In  the  year  1520,  for 
which  the  record  was  kept,  he  sold  twenty-nine  copies  of 
Vergil,  this  number  being  greater  than  that  of  the  works  of 
any  other  classic  writer  except  Cicero,  Terence,  whose 
popularity  was  due  partly  to  the  vogue  of  plays  on  the 
model  of  Roman  comedy,  and  Aristotle. 

Throughout  the  earlier  years  of  the  century,  Greek  was 
taught  at  the  Universities,  and  bade  fair  to  rival  Latin  in 
popularity  and  influence.  But  it  was  perhaps  more  "the 
learned  ardor"  of  a  comparatively  small  circle  of  scholars, 
and  did  not  spread  widely  enough  to  survive  the  disturbing 
events  of  the  fourth  decade  of  the  century,  when  the  attend- 
ajice  at  the  Universities  rapidly  decHned.  By  Mary's 
reign,  the  teaching  of  Greek  had  practically  ceased  at  both 
Oxford  and  Cambridge,  although  it  was  soon  revived. 
Latin,  however,  with  its  firm  basis  of  centuries  of  use,  held 

'  See  H.  C.  M.  Lyte,  A  History  of  the  University  of  Oxford  from  the 
Earliest  Times  to  the  Year  1536.     Lond.  1886.     p.  412. 


76  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

its  own.  So  Vergil,  as  opposed  to  the  Greek  writers, 
had  in  his  favor  not  only  the  accident  of  having  written 
in  the  more  familiar  language,  but  also  the  long  popu- 
larity of  his  work  and  the  unbroken  tradition  of  reverence 
which  had  been  associated  with  his  name  for  many  centuries. 
It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  in  his  particular  depart- 
ments of  the  eclogue  and  the  epic,  Vergil  held  the  field; 
his  authority  in  the  pastoral  was  threatened  more  by  his 
Renaissance  imitators  than  by  his  Greek  master. 

The  general  result  of  this  new  element  in  the  education 
of  the  Renaissance  was  a  broadening  in  the  scope  of  subject- 
matter  and  allusion  in  literature.  This  enrichment  of  the 
literary  material  naturally  appeared  first  in  Italy,  where, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  educational  change  began.  Both 
Petrarch  and  Boccaccio  wrote  Eclogues  after  the  Vergilian 
model,  and  set  the  example  for  the  later  Renaissance  writers, 
such  as  Mantuan  and  Sannazaro.  It  was  a  visit  to  the 
tomb  of  Vergil  that  first  instilled  into  Boccaccio  the  desire 
to  write  poetry.  To  Petrarch  Vergil  was  one  of  the  "two 
eyes"  of  his  discourse.  His  love  of  Vergil  dated  back  to  his 
boyhood  days,  when  his  father  discovered  him  at  Mont- 
peUier  reading  the  classics  instead  of  studying  law,  and 
threw  the  books  into  the  fire.  One  of  the  volumes  that  the 
father  repentantly  snatched  back  from  destruction  on  seeing 
his  son's  tears,  was  the  Rhetoric  of  Cicero,  and  the  other  was 
a  copy  of  Vergil,  probably  the  same  which  has  come  down  to 
us  enriched  by  marginal  comments  and  the  record  of  do- 
mestic happenings  on  its  pages.  The  memory  of  a  Vergilian 
phrase,  labor  omnia  vicit,  cheered  Petrarch  in  his  famous 
ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux,  and  more  than  a  hundred  quo- 
tations from  his  favorite  poet  are  scattered  through  the 
pages  of  his  familiar  letters.  In  his  second  Letter  to  CicerOy 
he  says  that  he  had  two  guides,  Cicero  himself  in  prose,  and 
Vergil  in  verse.    He  alludes  to  the  story  that  Cicero  heard 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  77 

the  sixth  Eclogue  recited  in  the  theater,  and  exclaimed, 
*'Spes  altera  Romae!'^  a  phrase  which  Vergil  later  incor- 
porated into  his  ''divine  poem,"  and  says  that  he  is  sure 
that  had  Cicero  lived  to  see  the  Aeneid,  he  would  have 
agreed  with  Propertius  in  calling  it  greater  than  the  Iliad. 
The  verse  Letter  to  Vergil  himself  begins,  ''O  illustrious  Maro, 
bright  luminary  of  eloquence  and  second  hope  of  the  Latin 
tongue,"  and  in  that  to  Homer,  Petrarch  enters  into  an 
elaborate  defense  of  the  Latin  poet  against  the  charge  of 
stealing  from  the  Greek.  But  most  interesting  of  all  is  that 
portion  of  the  Letter  to  Vergil  in  which  he  asks  the  poet  where 
he  is  and  who  are  his  companions.  He  then  proceeds  to  tell 
of  the  present  condition  of  Vergil's  favorite  cities,  Naples, 
Mantua,  and  Rome,  in  the  second  of  which  he  is  now  writ- 
ing. As  he  wanders  about  the  surrounding  country,  he 
says,  he  constantly  wonders  what  paths,  woods,  and  streams 
Vergil  used  to  frequent,  and  adds,  ''Such  thoughts  as  these, 
O  Vergil,  bring  thee  vividly  before  my  eyes."  *  And  yet 
Petrarch  cannot  break  away  from  the  allegorical  interpre- 
tation of  Vergil's  poems,  and  in  his  old  age  writes,  "Vergil's 
subject  ...  is  the  Perfect  Man  .  .  .  the  winds  .  .  .  blasts  of 
anger  and  mad  desire.  .  .  .  Aeolus  is  our  reason.  .  .  .  Venus 
...  is  pleasure." 

But  in  spite  of  his  admiration  of  Vergil  and  his  use  of 
him  as  a  model  in  verse,  Petrarch  was  exceedingly  careful 
to  avoid  any  verbal  echoes  of  his  lines.  He  was  incredulous 
when  a  pupil,  whom  he  had  been  cautioning  against  this 
very  thing,  accused  him  of  having  committed  such  a  fault, 
and  horrified  when  a  Vergilian  ending  of  one  of  his  verses 
was  pointedxOut  to  him  in  proof. 

His  followers,  however,  were  not  so  careful.  Maffeo 
Vegio,  or,  to  use  the  Latin  form  of  his  name,  Maphaeus 

•  See  Petrarch's  Letters  to  Classical  Authors,  translated  ...  by  Mario 
Emilio  Cosenza,  Ph.D.    Univ.  of  Chicago  Press.     1910. 


78  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Vegius,  presumed  to  complete  the  Aeneid  by  adding  a  thir- 
teenth book,  PoUtian  imitated  Vergil  in  his  Sylvae,  and  San- 
nazaro  not  only  wrote  Piscatory  Eclogues  which  owed  much 
to  the  EclogueSj  and  drew  some  inspiration  for  his  Arcadia 
from  the  Gallus,  but  spent  twenty  years  on  a  Vergilian  poem 
on  the  birth  of  Christ,  De  Partu  Virginis.  Mantuan's 
Eclogues,  not  very  Vergihan,  it  is  true,  but  written  in  the 
pastoral  tradition  derived  from  Vergil,  were  more  popular 
than  those  of  the  master  himself,  and  were  used  extensively 
in  the  grammar  schools  as  textbooks.  In  the  next  century 
came  some  imitations  of  the  Georgics,  Alamanni's  CoUi- 
vazione,  and  Rucellai's  Api.  All  these  were  justified  by  the 
doctrine  preached  in  Vida's  Art  of  Poetry,  itself  full  of  Ver- 
gilian and  Homeric  echoes,  namely  to  imitate  the  ancients, 
and  especially  Vergil,  who  was  to  him  the  ''father  of  verse, '* 
and  to  steal  boldly  and  constantly  from  the  classic  authors. 

Come  then,  ye  youths,  and  urge  your  generous  toils; 
Come,  strip  the  ancients,  and  divide  the  spoils 
Your  hands  have  won  J 

In  the  epic,  since  the  days  of  Petrarch,  the  Aeneid  had 
been  the  model  for  the  poets  of  the  Renaissance.  He  him- 
self had  written  a  Latin  epic,  Africa,  with  Scipio  Africanus 
as  its  hero,  and  by  his  precepts  as  well  as  by  his  example 
had  set  the  fashion  of  imitating  Vergil.  The  epics  of  Pulci, 
Boiardo,  Ariosto,  and  their  followers  show  the  classical 
influence  obscured  by  the  romantic  atmosphere,  but  in  the 
Jerusalem  Delivered,  Tasso's  borrowings  from  the  Latin  epic 
are  numerous  and  obvious.     The  first  line. 

Canto  Tarmi  pietose,  e  '1  Capitano, 

is  only  the  beginning  of  a  paragraph  which  closely  follows 

the  opening  of  the  Aeneid.    AUecto  appears,  with  familiar 

'  Pitt's  translation. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  79 

characteristics,  in  the  eighth  and  ninth  books,  the  latter 
of  which  contains  the  exploits  of  the  maiden  warrior,  Clorinda. 
There  are  numerous  Vergilian  names,  such  as  Latinus  and 
Picus.  In  the  eleventh  book  is  an  account  of  the  miraculous 
cure  of  Godfrey's  arrow-wound,  which  is  almost  a  literal 
translation  of  the  description  of  the  healing  of  Aeneas' 
wound  by  Venus.  The  final  words  of  the  enchantress 
Armida  to  Rinaldo  follow  faithfully  the  speeches  of  Dido 
in  the  fourth  book  of  the  Aeneid,  and  the  shield  of  Rinaldo  is 
clearly  a  reminiscence  of  that  of  Aeneas. 

At  about  the  same  time  in  France,  Ronsard  was  working 
at  his  Franciade.  Inspired  with  the  desire  to  become  the 
Vergil  of  his  country,  he  wrote  a  classical  epic  celebrating 
Francus,  the  mythical  founder  of  his  race,  who,  like  the  Eng- 
lish Brutus,  was  of  Trojan  blood.  In  the  sixteenth  century, 
too,  the  Dido  story  was  proving  its  popularity  in  Italy, 
France,  and  Germany,  by  becoming  the  subject  of  at  least 
five  plays,  by  Cinthio,  Dolce,  Jodelle,  Knaustius,  and 
Frischlin,  which  paralleled  and  probably  had  some  influence 
on  the  production  of  similar  plays  in  England,  both  by  the 
University  dramatists  and  by  Marlowe  and  Nash.  The 
influence  of  the  Eclogues  was  perpetuated  in  Marot's  French 
Eclogues,  and  that  of  the  Georgics  in  Baif's  Meteores  and 
Kirchmayer's  Agricultura  Sacra.  Vergilian  criticism,  or 
rather  eulogy,  is  represented  by  Vida  in  Italy,  and  in  France 
by  Julius  Caesar  Scaliger. 

As  will  be  evident  in  the  next  chapter,  the  literature  of 
England  in  the  sixteenth  century  showed  the  same  changes 
in  the  use  of  Vergilian  and  other  classical  material  as  that 
of  the  continental  nations.  Both  prose  and  poetry  of  the 
Renaissance  are  characterized  by  a  closer  adherence  to 
fact,  an  increase  in  the  number  of  Vergilian  allusions  and 
references,  the  growing  popularity  of  the  Dido  story  and 
the  gradual  change  from  Dares  to  Vergil  as  an  authority, 


80  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

the  widespread  adoption  of  the  eclogue  form,  and  especially 
the  greater  amount  of  imitation  and  the  change  in  the 
manner  of  using  Vergilian  material.  In  these  changes,  the 
translations  of  Vergil  played  a  great  part.  Annibale  Caro 
and  Molza  rendered  his  lines  into  Italian,  and  the  work  of 
Douglas,  Surrey  and  Phaer  undoubtedly  helped  to  familiarize 
the  general  reader  in  England  with  his  poems,  and  in  turn, 
the  greater  knowledge  of  the  Latin  made  popular  the  process 
of  rendering  them  in  the  vulgar  tongue. 

The  first  to  translate  the  Aeneid  ^  into  an  English  vernac- 
ular was  a  Scotchman,  Gavin  Douglas,  Bishop  of  Dunkeld. 
He  began  his  work  in  1512,  and,  according  to  his  own  state- 
ment, completed  it  in  eighteen  months,  on  the  day  of  the 
Feast  of  Mary  Magdalene,  1513.  It  comprises  not  only 
the  twelve  books  of  the  Aeneid  but  the  Supplementum 
Aeneidos  by  Maphaeus  Vegius.^  The  translation  itself  is 
in  rhymed  five-accented  couplets,  though  the  Prologues  to 
the  separate  books  vary  in  meter.  It  remained  in  manu- 
script until  1553,  when  it  was  printed  by  William  Copland, 
in  London.  This  first  printed  edition  shows  several  altera- 
tions from  the  manuscripts,  for  not  only  are  the  portions  of 
the  Prologues  which  refer  to  the  Virgin  and  Purgatory  omitted 
in  deference  to  the  anti-Catholic  feeling  of  the  time,  but  the 
whole  adventure  of  Dido  and  Aeneas  is  passed  over.  This 
would  undoubtedly  have  grieved  the  Bishop,  had  he 
known  it,  quite  as  much  as  had  the  expansion  of  that  episode 
in  the  Eneydos  of  Caxton.  For  Douglas'  oft-repeated  claim 
was  that  he  was  faithful  in  rendering  the  meaning  of  his 
original.  In  the  Prologue  to  Book  I  he  says,  contrasting 
his  own  treatment  of  the  story  with  that  of  Caxton,  between 

•  There  had  been  a  prose  version  of  the  Aeneid  in  Gaelic  before  1400, 
the  Intheachta  Aeniasa,  ed.  by  Rev.  George  Calder,  London,  1907. 
The  MS  is  found  in  the  Book  of  Ballymote,  pp.  449-485. 

»  Published  at  Venice  in  1485. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  81 

which  and  the  Aeneid  there  is  no  more  resemblance  than 
between  the  ''devUl  and  Sanct  Austyne/' 

Quhilk  did  my  best,  as  my  wit  mycht  attene, 
Virgillis  versis  to  follow,  and  nathing  fene. 

Fidelity  to  his  original  was  necessary  for  him  in  view 
of  his  purpose  in  writing.  In  the  Dyrectioun  of  his  Bulk  and 
the  Excusaiion  of  Hym  Self,  appended  to  the  translation,  he 
expresses  his  idea  of  the  purpose  and  value  of  his  work,  say- 
ing that  it  is  intended  to  be  both  pleasant  and  profitable, 
to  pass  the  time  for  some  people,  and  also  to  be  of  assistance 

To  thaim  wald  Virgill  to  childryng  expone. 

It  was  his  great  desire  that  his  favorite  poet  should  become 
known  to  all  his  countrymen.     "Go,  wlgar  Virgill,"  he  says, 

Now  salt  thou  with  euery  gentill  Scot  be  kend, 
And  to  onletterit  folk  be  red  on  hycht, 
That  erst  was  hot  with  clerkis  comprehend. 

The  greatness  of  his  task  and  the  exalted  position  of  his 
author  made  him  very  humble,  and  he  begged  that  if  any- 
thing went  wrong,  the  blame  might  fall  on  him  and  not  on 
Vergil,  who  alone  deserved  the  praise  if  things  went  well. 
The  Prologue  of  the  first  book  is  full  of  ''commendations 
of  Virgill,"  as  the  marginal  note  expresses  it.  The  poem 
opens  with  a  passage  of  eulogy,  characteristic  of  the  times 
in  its  extravagance  and  its  reiterated  praise  of  the  genius  of 
Vergil,  which  is  contrasted  with  his  own  humble  powers. 
He  will,  however,  with  his  master's  permission,  into  his 
"rural  wlgar  gros,  write  sum  savoring"  of  the  Aeneid. 
He  goes  on  to  say  that  it  was  at  the  instance  of  "Henry 
Lord  Sanct  Clair"  that  he  undertook  the  translation.  A  de- 
tailed discussion  of  Caxton's  faults  of  omission  and  com- 


82  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

mission,  an  explanation  of  the  character  of  Aeneas,  a  criti- 
cism of  Chaucer^s  attitude  toward  the  hero  of  the  poem, 
and  a  prayer  to  God  for  assistance  in  his  work,  make  up  the 
bulk  of  the  rest  of  the  Prologue.  With  a  final  appeal  to 
Vergil  to  forgive  him  if  he  offends,  he  closes  with  a  transla- 
tion of  the  four  lines  which  Varius  and  Tucca  excluded  from 
the  opening  of  the  Aeneid, 

The  Prologues  to  the  other  books  are  of  varying  impor- 
tance. Some,  like  those  to  the  seventh  and  tenth,  which 
contain  the  pictures  of  Winter  and  of  May,  are  interesting 
because  they  indicate  a  true  love  of  Nature  and  a  power  of 
description  in  the  Scottish  bishop;  some,  hke  the  marvel 
of  alliteration  prefixed  to  the  eighth  book,  are  of  linguistic 
value;  others  are  of  interest  because  they  throw  Ught  on 
Douglas*  knowledge  of  or  attitude  toward  Vergil.  Further 
information  on  the  last  matter  is  furnished  by  the  com- 
ments which  he  added  to  a  part  of  the  first  book,  to  which 
he  refers  in  his  address  to  Lord  Sinclair: 

I  have  alsso  a  schort  comment  compild 
To  expon  strange  histories  and  termes  wild. 

His  thorough  knowledge  ^°  of  and  close  dependence  on  the 
original  is  distinctly  different  from  the  romanticizing  tendency 
of  Chaucer  and  Caxton.  Not  that  the  good  bishop  always 
approves  of  his  author's  theology.  He  knows  that  the 
stories  of  the  pagan  gods  and  goddesses  are  **fenyeit,"  but 
contents  himself  with  explaining  in  his  notes  or  prologues 
the  hidden  meaning  in  these  fables,  and  does  not  drop  them 
out  of  the  story  itself  or  substitute  the  Fiend  for  Juno. 

*"  Douglas  also  knew  the  Eclogues  and  Georgics,  as  is  proved  by 
references  to  them  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  Prologues  and  in  the  Palice 
of  Honour.  There  are  also  references  in  the  latter  poem  to  Sinon  and 
to  Vergil's  magic  mirror.  The  story  of  the  Aeneid  is  summarixed  in 
three  stanzas. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  83 

Let  Virgyll  hald  his  mawmentis  to  hym  self; 

I  wirschip  noder  idoU,  stok,  nor  elf, 

Thocht  furth  I  wryte  so  as  myne  autour  dois. 

Yet  some  explanation  is  necessary  to  show  why  he  has 
chosen  to  interpret  this  pagan  poet  for  his  countrymen. 
Not  only  is  this  poet  of  the  ''sugurat  tone"  the 

al  and  sum,  quhat  nedis  moir, 
Of  Latyne  poetis  that  sens  wes  or  befoir, 

but  he  is  a  moral  instructor,  almost  a  Christian  in  his  ethical 
teaching.  In  this  Douglas  is  carrying  over  the  mediaeval 
tradition  about  Vergil  and  linking  it  with  a  more  profound 
sympathy  and  reverence  for  what  Vergil  actually  wrote  than 
can  be  found  in  any  of  the  writers  of  the  preceding  cen- 
turies. He  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  profundity  of 
Vergil's  philosophy,  and  almost  despaired  of  understanding 
it  himself  or  of  making  it  clear  to  others.  He  believed 
that  Aeneas  represented  the  ideal  prince  and  ruler,  and  as 
such  was  offered  as  a  model,  ^'an  exampill  and  myrour  to 
euery  prince  and  nobyl  man."  In  the  sixth  book  especially 
Vergil  showed  himself  as    ''a  hie  philosophour,"  and  there 

wndir  the  cluddes  of  dirk  poetry 
Hid  lyis  thair  mony  notable  history. 

The  belief  that  Vergil  was  a  prophet  of  the  Messiah  finds 
expression  in  the  Prologue  to  Book  VI,  where  Douglas  says, 

Thus  faithfully  in  his  Buikolikis  he  saith, 

The  maid  cumith  bryngis  new  lynage  fra  hevin. 

And  like  many  of  the  mediaeval  writers,  he  finds  evidences 
of  an  approach  to  Christian  ideas  in  other  places  in  the 
works  of  the  pagan  poet  beside  the  fourth  Eclogue.  So  his 
work  is  of  value  even  to  Christian  folk.  And  if  he  does 
depart  from  the  Christian  faith  at  times, 

Na  wondir;  he  was  na  cristin  man,  per  de. 


/ 


84  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

In  the  translation  itself,  Douglas  justifies  his  claim  to 
fidehty  to  the  Latin.  His  chief  fault  is  a  certain  diffuseness 
and  elaboration  of  the  original,  the  bulk  of  the  translation 
being  much  greater  than  that  of  the  Aeneid  itself.  But  that 
was  characteristic  of  the  period  in  which  he  was  writing. 
He  keeps  faithfully  to  the  "sentence"  even  if  he  is  forced 
to  change  the  expression  at  times  because  of  "sobtell  wourd 
or  the  ryme.'^  Francis  Junius  accused  him  of  making  many 
errors,  but  in  reaUty  there  are  very  few.  Among  them  may 
be  mentioned  the  translation  of  viscum  as  "gum  or  glew," 
and  of  Italiam  contra  as  "enemy  to  Italic,"  and  the  arith- 
metical sum  which  transforms  terque  quaterque  heati  into 

0  sevin  tymes  full  happy  and  blist  war  thai. 

Sometimes  he  inserts  a  phrase  in  explanation  of  an  unusual 
word,  as  in  the  Une, 

For  nymphes,  goddes  of  fluidis  and  woddis  grene, 

or  in  personal  comment  on  the  situation,  as  in  the  place  where 
he  expresses  his  opinion  of  Juno, 

Quhen  that  Juno,  till  hir  euerlestand  schame, 
The  eterne  wound  hid  in  hir  brest  ay  grene. 
Onto  hirselfe  thus  spak  in  propir  tene. 

On  the  whole,  however,  this  first  version  of  the  great 
Roman  epic  is  a  good  translation.  It  has  failed  to  catch 
quite  the  elevation  of  tone  that  marks  the  Latin,  but  it  is 
frankly  a  rendering  in  a  vernacular  which  is  "imperfite" 
beside  the  Roman  tongue,  couched  in  "haymly  plane  termes 
famyhar."  While  it  sometimes  lacks  dignity,  however, 
it  is  spirited  and  full  of  vigor.  This  may  be  seen  in  the 
account  of  the  death  of  Priam  or  the  description  of  the  last 
words  of  Dido,  both  of  them  excellent  touchstones  to  deter- 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  85 

mine  the  value  of  a  translation.  The  former  is  especially 
vivid: 

But  lo!  Polites,  ane  of  Priamus  sonnis, 

Quhilk  fra  the  slauchter  of  Pirrus  away  run  is, 

Throw  wapnis  fleing  and  his  enemyis  all, 

By  lang  throwgangis  and  mony  woyd  hall; 

Woundit  he  was,  and  come  to  seek  reskew; 

ArdentUe  Pirrus  can  him  fast  persew, 

With  grundin  lance  at  hand  so  neir  furth  strykit, 

Almaist  he  haid  him  tuichit  and  arrekit. 

Quhill  at  the  last,  quhen  he  is  cumin,  I  wene, 

Befoir  his  faderis  and  his  moderis  ene, 

Smate  him  doun  deid,  in  thair  sycht  quhar  he  stude, 

The  gaist  he  yald  with  habundance  of  blude. 

Then,  after  the  aged  Priam  has  hurled  defiance  at  the 
youthful  Pyrrhus,  comes  the  Greek's  insolent  answer  and 
the  murder  of  the  king: 

To  Pilleus  sone,  my  fadir,  thou  most  ga; 

Ber  him  this  message,  ramember  weil  thou  tell 

Him  all  my  werkis  and  deidis  sa  cruell. 

Now  sail  thou  dee.    And  with  that  word,  in  tene, 

The  auld  trumbhng  towart  the  altair  he  drew, 

That  in  the  hait  blude  of  his  sone,  sched  new, 

Funderit;  and  Pirrus  grippis  him  by  the  hair 

With  his  left  hand,  and  with  the  vdir  aU  bair 

Drew  furth  his  schynand  swerd,  quhilk  in  his  syde 

Festynnit,  and  vnto  the  hiltis  did  it  hyde.^^ 

For  passages  like  this,  we  can  forgive  the  Scottish  church- 
man for  making  the  Sibyl  a  "nwn"  who  tells  Aeneas  not  to 
forget  his  beads.  It  was  a  task  which  made  the  Scottish 
nation  proud  to  claim  him,  and  one  of  the  greatest  writers 
of  his  race  in  after  years  described  him  as 

"  Aen.  2.  526-532,  547-553. 


86  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

More  pleased  that,  in  a  barbarous  age, 
He  gave  rude  Scotland  Virgil's  page, 
Than  that  beneath  his  rule  he  held 
The  bishopric  of  fair  Dunkeld.^^ 

Four  years  after  the  translation  of  Gavin  Douglas  was 
published,  appeared  a  version  of  the  second  and  fourth 
books  of  the  Aeneid  by  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  This  is  famous 
chiefly  for  the  fact  that  it  is  written  in  blank  verse,  this 
being  the  first  instance  of  its  use  in  English.  There  has 
been  much  discussion  of  the  sdurce  of  his  meter,  some  trac- 
ing it  to  Italian  origin,  others  attributing  it  to  native  inspira- 
tion. George  Frederick  Nott,  in  his  edition  of  the  works 
of  Wyatt  and  Surrey,  ^^  endeavored  to  show  that  the  trans- 
lation was  originally  written  in  unrhymed  Alexandrines, 
and  then  cut  down  to  decasyllabic  lines.  But  it  seems  in- 
credible that  the  poet  should  have  attempted  such  a  task. 
He  had  very  probably  seen  the  translation  of  Gavin  Douglas, 
and  indeed  follows  him  quite  closely  at  times;  ^'*  and  it  is 
very  possible  that  his  acquaintance  with  the  Scotchman's 
five-accented  couplets,  combined  with  some  knowledge 
of  the  Italian  version  of  the  Aeneid  in  blank  verse  by  Molza, 
who  allowed  his  patron.  Cardinal  Hippolito  di  Medici,  the 
credit,  and  influenced  by  some  prophetic  sympathy  with 
the  dislike  of  the  Elizabethans  for  rhyme,  supplied  the 
impetus  for  the  use  of  this  new  meter.  Thus  there  may 
easily  have  been  several  influences  which  brought  about 
the  result,  and  it  seems  most  probable  that  they  were  all 
operative  to  a  greater  or  less  degree. 

But  our  chief  interest  is  in  the  translation  as  a  transla- 
tion, although  this  is  its  least  important  side  in  the  history 

"  Scott,  Marmion,  Canto  VI.  11. 

"  Dissertation,  pp.  cc  ff.  Also  see  Otto  Fest,  Uber  Surrey's  VirgU- 
Hhersetzung,  Weimar,  1903. 

^*  See  examples  in  Nott's  edition. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  87 

of  English  literature.  Although  Surrey  undoubtedly  owes 
something  to  Douglas'  version,  yet  he  has  aimed  to  repro- 
iduce  the  stateliness  of  the  Latin  rather  than  merely  to 
render  it  intelligible  to  ''onletterit  folk."  He  abandons, 
therefore,  the  ''haymly  termes"  of  the  Scotchman,  and 
expresses  himself  in  a  style  and  language  more  fitted  to  the 
dignity  of  the  original.  Compare,  for  example,  the  two 
accounts  of  the  speech  of  Laocoon.  Douglas  translates 
the  passage  thus : 

Following  ane  great  rowt,  the  priest  Laocone, 

From  the  chief  temple  rynnand  in  full  grete  hye. 

On  far,  0  wretchit  peple,  can  he  crye. 

How  greit  wodnes  is  this  that  3e  now  mene, 

3  our  enemyis  away  salit,  gif  3e  wene, 

Or  gif  3e  traist  ony  Grekis  giftis  be 

Without  dissait,  falsait  and  subtilite! 

Knaw  36  nocht  bettir  the  quent  Ulexes  slycht? 

Surrey,  with  less  vigor,  perhaps,  but  with  a  certain  accession 
of  dignity,  renders  the  passage  as  follows : 

Lo!  foremost  of  a  rout  that  foUow'd  him, 
Kindled  Laocoon  hasted  from  the  tower. 
Crying  far  off:  "0  wretched  citizens! 
What  so  great  kind  of  frensy  fretteth  you? 
Deem  ye  the  Greeks  our  enemies  to  be  gone? 
Or  any  Greekish  gifts  can  you  suppose 
Devoid  of  guile?    Is  so  Ulysses  known?  "^^ 

But  while  the  translation  is  a  degree  more  sophisticated, 
it  is  not  lacking  in  spirit  and  liveliness.  Being  in  blank 
verse,  it  has  a  freer  movement  than  the  later  versions  that 
were  restricted  by  rhyme,  whether  that  of  the  "  fourteeners '' 
of  Phaer  and  Twyne,  the  heroic  couplet  of  Dry  den,  or  the 

"  Aen.  2.  40-44. 


88  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

various  other  verse  forms  adopted  by  subsequent  transla- 
tors. To  apply  once  more  one  of  the  touchstones  for  a  good 
translation,  take  Surrey's  version  of  Dido's  last  curse  upon 
Aeneas : 

This  I  require;  these  words  with  blood  I  shed, 

And  Tyrians,  ye  his  stock  and  all  his  race 

Pursue  with  hate!  reward  our  cinders  so. 

No  love  nor  league  betwixt  our  peoples  be. 

And  of  our  bones  some  wreaker  may  there  spring, 

With  sword  and  flame  that  Trojans  may  pursue 

Now,  from  henceforth,  when  that  our  power  may  stretch. 

Our  coasts  to  them  contrary  be  for  aye 

I  crave  of  God;  and  our  streams  to  their  floods: 

Arms  unto  arms,  and  offspring  of  each  race 

With  mortal  war  each  other  may  for-do.^^ 

Surrey  kept  fairly  close  to  his  original,  and  yet,  with  a 
sweetness  of  flow  and  a  freedom  in  the  movement  of  his 
lines,  remarkable  in  the  infancy  of  blank  verse,  he  has 
succeeded  in  making  of  his  translation  a  poem  which  com- 
pares favorably  with  the  original  productions  of  the  same 
period,  and  never  outrages  the  spirit  of  his  author. 

In  his  Discourse  of  English  Poeirie,  William  Webbe,^^ 
speaking  of  the  translators  of  the  sixteenth  century,  says, 
"1  can  no  longer  forget  those  learned  gentlemen  which 
tooke  such  profitable  paynes  in  translating  the  Latine  poets 
into  our  English  tongue,  whose  deserts  in  that  behalf  are 
more  than  I  can  utter.  Among  these  I  euer  esteemed  .  .  . 
Master  D.  Phaer:  without  doubt  the  best:  who  as  indeede 
hee  had  the  best  peece  of  poetry  whereon  to  sette  a  most 
gallant  verse,  so  performed  he  it  accordingly."  This  ''gal- 
lant verse"  was  the  English  ''fourteener,"  a  meter  revived 

i«  Aen.  4.  621-9. 

"  Webbe  himself  translated  the  first  two  Eclogues  into  English  hex- 
ameters. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  89 

three  centuries  later  by  William  Morris,  capable  of  some 
vigor  and  swing,  but  also  tending  to  become  monotonous, 
and  differing  widely  from  the  roll  of  the  hexameter  in  Latin. 
Thomas  Phaer's  version  of  the  first  seven  books  of  the 
Aeneid  was  published  in  1558,  just  one  year  after  Surrey's 
translation  appeared.  Four  years  later  appeared  an  edi- 
tion of  nine  books  and  part  of  the  tenth,  representing  Phaer's 
work  as  far  as  he  carried  it  before  his  death.  Thomas 
Twyne,  however,  completed  the  translation,  and  in  1573 
issued  the  entire  poem.  Ten  years  later  the  thirteenth 
book  by  Maphaeus  Vegius  was  added.  The  translation  was 
popular  and  went  through  at  least  five  more  editions  by 
1620. 

The  1573  edition,  the  first  containing  the  complete  poem, 
is  a  little  volume  in  black  letter,  including  a  translation  of 
"Virgil's  life  out  of  Donatus  and  the  Argument  before  every 
booke."  It  also  has  a  marginal  gloss,  which  is  fully  as 
interesting  as  the  translation  itself,  for  it  consists,  not  only 
of  a  suromary  of  the  story,  but  of  quaint  explanatory  re- 
marks and  naive  comment  and  criticism.  In  several  places 
it  indicates  the  survival  of  that  old  theory,  so  strong  in  Gavin 
Douglas,  that  the  poem  contains  some  hidden  meaning. 
Such  for  instance  is  the  note  which  says,  "She  appoints 
him  first  to  the  golden  tree  wherby  is  signified  wisdome 
that  ouercometh  al  things."  Also  in  "Master  Phaers 
Conclusion  to  his  interpretation  of  the  Aeneidos  of  Virgil,'* 
the  translator  begs  for  leniency  from  his  "right  worshipful 
maisters,  and  students  of  Universities,  and  such  as  be 
teachers  of  children  and  readers  of  this  auctour  in  Latin," 
in  reference  to  any  deviations  he  may  have  made  from  the 
original,  and  continues,  "For,  (besides  the  diuersitie  be- 
tweene  a  construction  and  a  translation)  you  know  there 
be  many  misticall  secretes  in  this  writer,  which  uttered  in 
English  would  shew  little  pleasour,  and  in  myne  opinion 


90  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

are  better  to  be  untouched,  than  to  diminishe  the  grace  of 
the  rest  with  tediousnes  and  darknes." 

In  view  of  his  meter  and  his  quaint,  simple  way  of  trans- 
lating, he  is  probably  at  his  best  in  such  a  book  as  the  fifth, 
where  he  seems  to  take  a  real  delight  in  telling  of  the  funeral 
games.  His  description  of  the  foot-race  is  particularly 
good.     It  also  illustrates  the  fact  that  he  keeps  the  half-lines. 

First  and  before  all  other  bodies,  nimble  Nisus  springs, 

More  swifter  yet  than  wind,  and  than  the  dint  of  lightnings  wings, 

Next  unto  him,  but  long  aloof,  in  distance  next  of  place. 

Doth  Salius  pursue,  and  after  him  a  certain  space, 

Eurialus  the  thirde. 

And  next  Eurialus  sir  Helimus  ensues,  and  ioyntly  than 

Behold  he  flies,  and  heele  to  heele  with  him  Diores  ran. 

With  elbow  next  and  next,  and  if  the  race  do  long  remaine, 

Is  like  to  scape  them  all,  or  one  to  leave  in  doubtful  gaine. 

And  towards  now  the  latter  end  they  drew,  and  wery  all, 

They  ran  with  panting  breathes,  whan  sodenly  did  Nisus  fall, 

(Unhappy  man)  where  hefers  had  ben  slaine  by  chaunce  on  grasse, 

And  ground  was  slypper  made  by  certein  blood  that  shed  there 

was. 
There  now  the  gentle  lad,  (whan  conquest  proud  he  had  in  hande) 
His  legges  he  could  not  hold,  nor  stombling  so,  could  longer  stand, 
But  groueling  flat  he  fel,  and  in  the  slime  embrewd  him  vile. 
Yet  not  Eurialus  his  freend,  did  he  forget  that  while: 
For  quickly  sterting  he,  sir  Salius  way  with  fote  did  stop, 
That  headlong  downe  in  dust  he  ouerturnid  taile  and  top. 
Eiuialus  than  springing  skuddid  forth,  and  through  his  frend, 
With  ioyful  shoutes  of  men,  he  gets  the  chief  at  races  end." 

Richard  Stanyhurst's  translation  of  the  first  four  books 
of  the  Aeneid  deserves  little  notice  except  as  a  metrical  curi- 
osity. It  is  written  in  quantitative  hexameters,  constructed 
according  to  a  prosody  of  his  own,  "squaring  somewhat  from 

"  Aen.  6.  318^338. 


VERGIL  AND  HUMANISM  91 

the  Latin."  As  a  translation  it  is  of  no  value,  for  the  reader 
is  so  concerned  with  the  structure  of  the  lines  that  he  cannot 
find  much  Vergil  in  it.  But  as  an  example  of  the  absurd 
lengths  to  which  were  carried  the  theories  of  the  Areopagus, 
that  circle  of  Elizabethans  who  were  rebelling  against  rhyme 
and  advocating  the  use  of  classical  meters  in  English,  it  is 
of  great  interest.  Stanyhurst  had  a  high  opinion  of  his 
author  both  as  a  poet  and  as  a  moral  teacher,  and  he  ex- 
presses his  admiration  of  him  in  the  preface  to  his  transla- 
tion. "But  oure  Virgil,"  he  says,  '\  .  .  dooth  laboure, 
in  telling  as  yt  were  a  Cantorburye  tale,  too  ferret  owt  the 
secretes  of  Nature,  with  woordes  so  fitlye  coucht,  wyth 
verses  so  smoothly e  slychte,  with  sentences  so  featlye 
orderd,  with  orations  so  neatlie  burnisht,  with  similitudes 
so  aptly  applyed,  with  eeche  decorum  so  duely  obserued, 
as  in  truth  hee  hath  in  right  purchased  too  hymself  thee 
name  of  a  surpassing  poet,  thee  fame  of  an  od  oratoure, 
and  thee  admiration  of  a  profound  philosopher."  So  high 
an  estimate  of  Vergil's  powers  would  lead  us  to  expect  some- 
thing remarkable  in  the  way  of  a  translation,  at  least  some- 
thing approaching  a  sympathetic  appreciation  of  the  Latin. 
But  one  example  will  suffice  to  show  that  this  expectation 
must  be  disappointed.  What  must  we  think  of  the  me- 
trical ear  or  the  poetic  sense  of  a  translator  who  renders 
Dido's  last  imprecation  in  these  strange  hexameters? 

Let  ther  one  od  captayne  from  my  beans  rustye  be  springing. 

With  fire  eke  and  weapons  thee  caytiefs  Troian  auenging; 

Now;  then;  at  eeche  season;  what  so  eare  streingthe  mightye  shal 

happen, 
Let  shoare  bee  to  shoare,  let  seas  contrarye  toe  seas  stand, 
And  to  armours,  armours  I  do  pray,  let  progenye  bicker.^' 

"  Am.  4.  625-9. 


CHAPTER  V 

SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE 

In  view  of  the  increased  acquaintance  with  the  Aeneid 
itself,  it  is  not  strange  that  in  the  sixteenth  century  the 
mediaeval  ideas  of  the  poem  and  of  its  author  should  gradu- 
ally lose  their  hold  on  the  imagination.  There  was,  however, 
no  decided  break  between  the  mediaeval  and  the  Renaissance 
traditions  of  Vergil,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  ''new  learning,*' 
some  behefs  survived  from  the  Middle  Ages.  Although  the 
figure  of  Vergil  the  magician,  never  very  popular  in  England, 
scarcely  appears  after  the  first  quarter  of  the  century, 
Hawes'  Pastime  of  Pleasure  contains  the  "basket  story," 
and  the  pubUcation  of  Doesborcke's  Lyfe  of  Virgilius  in- 
dicates that  there  was  still  in  England  about  1530  some 
interest  in  the  stories  which  had  been  in  such  high  favor  on 
the  continent.  Practically  the  only  reference  after  this, 
however,  is  the  allusion  in  Marlowe's  Doctor  Faustus  to 

learned  Maro's  golden  tomb: 
The  way  he  cut  an  English  mile  in  length, 
Through  a  rock  of  stone  in  one  night's  space. 

But  the  desire  of  the  Christian  humanists  to  bring  all 
their  knowledge  to  serve  the  interests  of  the  moral  and 
religious  advancement  of  the  human  race,  helped  to  per- 
petuate the  love  for  allegorical  interpretation  and  the 
belief  in  the  moral  purpose  of  the  Aeneid,  inherited  from 
the  days  of  Fulgentius  and  of  John  of  Salisbury.  Nor  was 
this  belief  incompatible  with  a  knowledge  of  the  original. 
In  fact,  it  depended  on  it,  and  so  survived  in  the  work  of 

92 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE        93 

writers  from  Douglas  to  Spenser.  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  for 
example,  reiterates  in  varying  forms  his  belief  that  "no  philos- 
opher's precepts  can  sooner  make  you  an  honest  man  than 
the  reading  of  Virgil."  Douglas  justified  his  translation 
of  a  pagan  poet,  and  Spenser  his  use  of  allegory  by  refer- 
ence to  the  hidden  meaning  of  the  work  of  Vergil. 

The  change  from  the  mediaeval  is  most  strongly  marked 
in  two  ways,  in  the  increase  in  the  number  of  references  to 
the  poems  of  Vergil  and  of  quotations  from  them,  and  in 
the  nature  of  these  references.  The  increase  in  the  number 
of  the  references  is  seen  most  easily  in  the  prose  of  the 
period.  Nearly  every  other  page  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney's 
Defence  of  Poesy,  for  instance,  will  yield  at  least  one  quota- 
tion from  Vergil,  or  one  reference  to  the  characters  in  the 
story  which  he  tells.  The  Elizabethan  critics  use  him 
constantly  for  illustration  or  confirmation.  The  very  fact 
that  many  of  them  were  interested  in  either  supporting 
or  attacking  the  theories  of  the  Areopagus  in  regard  to  the 
use  of  classical  meters  in  English,  and  were  frequently  ex- 
perimenting themselves  with  hexameters  from  Vergil,  also 
shows  the  increasing  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  his  poetry. 

It  is  in  the  poetry  of  the  century  that  the  change  in  the 
nature  of  the  references  and  of  the  use  of  Vergilian  material 
is  most  apparent.  Gower  and  Lydgate,  as  we  have  seen, 
made  many  references  to  Dido  and  Aeneas,  but  they  were 
in  the  main  conventional,  and  the  result  of  a  knowledge 
of  the  romantic  conception  of  their  story  rather  than  a 
scholarly  acquaintance  with  the  original.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  survival  of  this  conventional  attitude  in  the 
poems  of  the  Renaissance,  especially  in  the  lyrics  of  the 
Elizabethan  collections  of  songs  and  sonnets.  Dido  is 
still  in  many  cases  the  forsaken  woman,  and  Aeneas  the 
false  traitor,  the  type  of  unfaithfulness  in  man  as  Cressid 
is  of  unfaithfulness  in  woman,  and  Penelope  of  faithfulness 


94  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

and  Helen  of  beauty.  The  poets  had  not  yet  grown  entirely 
away  from  this  simple  and  obvious  interpretation  of  the 
story. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  sufficient  number  of  refer- 
ences which  show  an  acquaintance  with  the  text  of  the 
Aeneid  at  first  hand.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  beginning 
of  Wyatt's  unfinished  Song  of  lopas, 

When  Dido  feasted  the  wand'ring  Trojan  knight, 

Whom  Juno's  wrath  with  storms  did  force  in  Libic  sands  to  light; 

That  mighty  Atlas  taught,  the  supper  lasting  long, 

With  crisped  locks  on  golden  harp  lopas  sang  in  song, 

or  the  same  author's  lines  in  one  of  his  OdeSj 

For  though  hard  rocks  among 

She  seems  to  have  been  bred; 
And  of  the  tiger  long 

Been  nourished  and  fed. 

The  numerous  references  to  Nisus  and  Euryalus,  the  use 
of  Scylla  and  Charybdis  in  imagery,  the  allusion  in 

0  house  without  thy  head! 

O  ship  without  a  steare! 
Thy  Palynurus  now  is  dead, 

As  shortly  will  appear, 

all  gathered  from  TotteVs  Miscellany  and  its  followers,  are 
evidences  of  a  knowledge  of  the  entire  Aeneid.  And  although 
Turbervile's  Pretie  Epigram  of  a  Scholer,  that  having  read 
Virgils  Aeneidos,  marled  a  curst  wife,  quotes  only  the  first 
two  words  of  the  Aeneid,  it  may  fairly  be  conjectured  that 
both  the  author  and  the  subject  of  the  epigram  had  read 
further.  Grimoald's  sonnet  Concerning  Virgils  Eneids  shows 
by  its  high  praise  that  the  author  was  a  reader  and  admirer 
of  Vergil. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE        95 

The  second  passage  quoted  from  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  above, 
together  with  a  similar  one  from  the  Gallery  of  Gallant 
Inventions^ 

Yet  lo,  thy  proofe  I  know,  the  trusty  waight. 
Of  Tygars  milke,  thou  fostred  wert  from  molde,^ 

illustrates  the  new  method  of  imitation  from  the  classics. 
During  the  Middle  Ages,  and  up  through  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, a  poet  very  seldom  used  Vergihan  phraseology  unless 
he  was  referring  directly  to  the  story  of  the  Aeneid.  He 
rarely  adopted  a  line  or  phrase  or  figure  and  applied  it  to 
some  other  situation.  Chaucer  and  his  contemporaries, 
with  mediaeval  dependence  on  their  '*auctours,"  constantly 
used  the  name  of  Vergil  to  support  their  story,  and  frankly 
borrowed  descriptions,  such  as  that  of  Lady  Fame.  But 
after  Vida  had  given  his  advice  to  steal  boldly  and  con- 
tinually from  the  classics,  and  especially  from  Vergil,  and 
after  the  new  education  had  brought  to  all  men  of  letters  a 
thorough  familiarity  with  his  work,  poets  began  to  imitate 
lines,  paragraphs,  whole  passages  of  the  Eclogues,  the  Georgics, 
or  the  Aeneid,  with  no  more  acknowledgment  to  Vergil  than 
Vergil  had  made  to  his  Greek  models.  Imitation  became 
one  of  the  cardinal  principles  of  writing,  and  the  poetry  of  the 
Elizabethans  is  filled  with  echoes  of  their  reading  in  the 
classics. 

The  most  elaborate  piece  of  Vergilian  imitation  before 
Spenser,  is  Sackville's  Induction  to  the  1563  edition  of  the 
Mirror  for  Magistrates.  The  Middle  Ages  and  humanism 
meet  in  this  poem  in  a  remarkable  way.  The  early  stanzas 
are  full  of  Chaucerian  echoes,  with  the  characteristic 
mediaeval  fondness  for  elaborate  astronomical  information 
and  for  detailed  description  shown  in  the  exaggerations 
in  the  picture  of  Sorrow.     But  with  the  poet's  recognition 

I  Cf .  Aen,  4.  365-7. 


/ 


96  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  Sorrow  as  a  goddess,  and  her  proposal  to  conduct  him 
to  the  Underworld,  begins  the  imitation  of  the  Aeneid. 
Like  Aeneas  and  the  Sibyl,  Sackville  and  his  guide  come  to 
"Lake  Averne," 

Which  up  in  the  ayer  such  stinking  vapors  throwes 
That  over  there,  may  flye  no  f owle  but  dyes, 
Choakt  with  the  pestilent  savoius  that  aryse. 

The  cave  too,  "wyth  ougly  mouth  and  grisly  jawes,"  is 
like  that  in  Vergil,  "vastoque  immanis  hiatu.'*  At  the  en- 
trance to  Hell  they  find  a  number  of  allegorical  figures, 
like  those  in  Vergil,  Remorse,  Dread,  Revenge,  Miserie, 
Care,  Sleep,  Old  Age,  Maladie,  Famine,  Death,  and  War.^ 
The  mere  name  or  the  suggestive  adjective  of  VergiPs  ac- 
count is  elaborated  by  Sackville  into  a  passage  of  several 
lines,  never  less  than  seven,  and  in  the  description  of  Old 
Age,  forty-two.  "Heavy  slepe  the  cosin  of  death,"  ''sad 
Olde  age,"  and  "pale  Maladie,"  the  Vergilian  expressions, 
do  not  satisfy  him ;  he  must  add  to  them  many  lines  in  which 
the  repugnant  characteristics  of  these  figures  are  dwelt  on 
with  loving  minuteness.  There  are  other  Vergilian  reminis- 
cences included  in  these  lines,  such  as  the  echo  of  Evander's 
wish  that  his  youth  might  return.  The  shield  of  War  is 
an  obvious  copy  of  the  shield  of  Aeneas.  It  is  adorned  with 
pictures  of  historical  or  legendary  events,  not  with  alle- 
gorical figures  like  that  of  Achilles.  The  picture  of  the  fall 
of  Troy  was  evidently  written  with  Vergil  in  mind,  especially 
the  narrative  of  the  capture  of  Cassandra  and  the  death  of 
Priam.  The  descriptions  of  Charon  and  of  Cerberus  are 
taken  straight  from  the  Aeneid,  and  also  the  account  of 
the  launching  of  the  skifif  with  its  corporeal  burden.  The 
lines, 

•  Cf.  Spenser,  Faerie  Queene,  II.  7.  21  ff. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE        97 

And  furth  we  launch  ful  fraughted  to  the  brinke, 
Whan  with  the  unwonted  weyght,  the  rustye  keele 
Began  to  creake  as  if  the  same  should  sinke, 

are  the  Vergilian 

gemuit  sub  pondere  cumba 
sutiUs  et  multam  accepit  rimosa  paludem. 

And  finally,  the  shades  in  the  Underworld  are  divided  into 
the  Vergilian  classes,  ''babes  .  .  .  maydes  unwed  .  .  .  gyltles 
slayne  .  .  .  lovers  dead." 

The  increased  popularity  of  the  story  of  the  Aeneid 
was  also  a  powerful  factor  in  determining  the  nature  of 
Vergilian  influence  in  the  century.  The  weight  of  authority 
on  the  story  of  Troy  was  gradually  being  transferred  from 
Dares  Phrygius  to  Vergil.  William  Warner  in  the  last 
decade  of  the  century  tells  the  old  traitor  story  in  the  body 
of  his  Albion^ s  England,  but  appends  a  prose  abstract  of 
the  Aeneid  in  which  he  casts  a  slur  at  those  authorities  who 
''noted"  the  hero  of  that  poem  "of  disloyalty  toward 
Priam."  The  two  versions  stood  side  by  side  for  much 
of  the  time,  but  the  balance  of  power  was  changing.  "  Sinon's 
shifts'^  were  spoken  of  rather  than  Aeneas'  disloyalty. 
The  story  of  Aeneas'  wanderings,  his  love-affair  with  Dido, 
and  his  battles  in  Italy,  was  becoming  an  old  and  familiar 
tale.  And  Dido's  tragic  love-affair  was  the  most  familiar  por- 
tion of  the  narrative,  and  the  most  appealing,  then  as  now. 
The  new  knowledge  of  her  story,  as  it  was  told  by  the  master 
himseK,  and  the  centuries  of  romantic  tradition,  combined 
to  make  her  a  favorite,  as  is  proved  by  the  constant  refer- 
ences to  her  in  poetry  and  the  repeated  use  of  this  incident 
in  the  drama. 

But  perhaps  the  thing  which  is  most  significant  of  the 
change  during  the  Renaissance,  is  the  contrast  between 
the  picture  drawn  of  the  personality  of  Vergil  himself  by 


98  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

John  Doesborcke,  somewhere  around  1530,  or  by  Stephen 
Hawes,  and  that  drawn  by  Ben  Jonson  in  his  Poetastery  in 
1601.  There  stands  the  soHtary  figure  of  the  magician, 
utterly  divorced,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  from  the  time 
in  which  he  lived  and  the  literature  which  he  produced,  a 
figure  belonging  essentially  to  the  M  ddle  Ages.  Here  is 
the  author  of  the  Aeneid,  represented  as  moving  in  the 
midst  of  the  court  society  of  Augustan  Rome.  It  is  true 
that  he  may  represent  Chapman  or  Shakespeare  or  some 
other  of  Jonson's  contemporaries,  but  nevertheless  he  is 
brought  upon  the  stage  in  company  with  Horace  and  Ovid 
and  Maecenas,  and  some  attempt  is  made  to  show  him  as  he 
must  have  appeared  to  his  contemporaries.  To  read  first 
a  passage  from  the  Virgilius,  and  then  one  from  the  Poetastery 
is  to  step  over  the  gap  between  the  Middle  Ages  and  the 
Renaissance.  To  Doesborcke  Vergil  is  merely  ''a  fayre 
and  a  wyse  yonge  man,  and  conynge  in  the  scyence  of 
negromancy  aboue  all  men  than  lyuynge,"  having  no  other 
connection  with  literature  save  that  he  is  a  schoolmaster, 
and  often  coming  into  direct  conflict  with  the  Emperor. 
But  Ben  Jonson's  Augustus,  on  hearing  of  the  approach  of 
Vergil,  says, 

Rome's  honour  is  at  hand,  then.    Fetch  a  chair, 
And  set  it  on  our  right  hand;  where  'tis  fit 
Rome's  honour  and  our  own  should  ever  sit, 

and  Horace,  Gallus,  and  TibuUus  pass  judgment  on  him: 

Hor.    I  judge  him  of  a  rectified  spirit, 
By  many  revolutions  of  discourse 
(In  his  bright  reason's  influence)  refined 
From  all  the  tartarous  moods  of  common  men; 
Bearing  the  nature,  and  similitude 
Of  a  right  heavenly  body;  most  severe 
In  fashion  and  collection  of  himself, 
And  then,  as  clear  and  confident  as  Jove. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE        99 

Gal.    And  yet  so  chaste  and  tender  is  his  ear, 
In  suffering  any  syllable  to  pass, 
That  he  thinks  may  become  the  honour'd  name 
Of  issue  to  his  so  examined  self. 
That  all  the  lasting  fruits  of  his  full  merit. 
In  bis  own  poems,  he  doth  still  distaste. 
As  if  his  mind's  piece,  which  he  strove  to  paint, 
Could  not  with  fleshly  pencils  have  her  right. 

Tib.  .  .  .  That  which  he  hath  writ 

Is  with  such  judgment  labour'd,  and  distill'd 
Through  all  the  needful  uses  of  our  lives. 
That  could  a  man  remember  but  his  hues. 
He  should  not  touch  at  any  serious  point, 
But  he  might  breathe  his  spirit  out  of  him. 

Hor.  And  for  his  poesy,  'tis  so  rammed  with  life. 
That  it  shall  gather  strength  of  life,  with  being. 
And  live  hereafter,  more  admired,  than  now. 

Although  the  last  two  speeches  may  be  intended  as  a  criti- 
cism of  Chapman  or  Shakespeare,  it  is  nevertheless  signifi- 
cant that  Vergil  should  be  the  author  chosen  to  represent 
a  man  so  honored,  the  one  to  sit  at  Caesar's  right  hand,  and 
to  give  judgment  in  a  literary  court.  And  there  is  little 
here  given  in  the  description  of  the  Roman  poet  and  his 
work  that  has  not  been  or  might  not  be  considered  applicable 
to  the  historic  Vergil. 

To  the  Renaissance,  Vergil  was  the  author  not  only  of  the 
Aeneid,  but  also  of  the  Eclogues.  All  three  of  his  poems 
were  well  known,  but  the  Georgics  did  not  come  into  their 
own  until  the  eighteenth  century.  Nicholas  Grimoald, 
it  is  true,  made  a  paraphrase  of  them,  which  was  printed 
in  1591,  and  a  translation  of  the  Bucolics  and  Georgics  was 
published  in-  1589  by  ''A.  F."  But  there  was  nothing  in 
England  to  correspond  to  the  French  and  Italian  imitations 
by  Baif,  Alamanni  and  Rucellai.     Thomas  Tusser's  Five 


100  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Hundreth  Points  of  Good  Husbandry,  the  only  work  in  the 
century  which  might  seem  Hke  an  imitation  of  the  Georgics, 
evidently  owes  its  maxims  to  no  classical  poet,  but  to  the 
experience  and  common  sense  of  the  writer  himself.  The 
didacticism  of  the  sixteenth  century  turned  to  other  things 
beside  agriculture. 

Spenser  was  the  greatest  figure  of  Elizabethan  poetry, 
outside  of  the  drama.  His  range  of  genius,  greater  than  that 
of  any  other  poet  of  the  century  except  Shakespeare,  covered 
practically  all  the  phases  of  Vergihan  influence  then 
operative,  that  of  the  Eclogues  in  particular,  and  also  that 
of  the  Aeneid  and  of  the  allegorical  interpretation  of  the 
Aeneid.  And  his  epic  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  the  pecu- 
liar manner  in  which  the  writers  of  that  romance-loving 
period  adapted  to  their  own  uses  an  epic  as  formal  as 
Vergil's  poem.  So,  as  he  sums  up  the  pastoral  tradition 
and  furnishes  the  models  for  many  writers  of  the  formal 
eclogue  in  succeeding  generations,  and  as  he  is  the  greatest 
representative  of  the  romantic  treatment  of  the  Aeneid,  it 
will  be  well  to  focus  our  attention  upon  his  use  of  Vergil,  and 
let  the  practice  of  his  contemporaries  and  followers  illustrate 
and  ampUfy  the  attitude  which  he  represents. 

Of  the  various  forms  of  the  pastoral  which  developed  in 

England  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  pastoral  drama,  the 

prose  romance,  the  lyric,  and  the  formal  eclogue,  it  is  only 

the  last  which  is  to  be  considered  here.     For  although  they 

I  were  obviously  all  derived  ultimately  from  the   classical 

I  models,  in  the  case  of  the  first  three,  the  Greek  and  Latin 

/  influence  lost  most  of  its  individuality  in  being  filtered 

/  through  the  work  of  the  Italian,  French,  and  Spanish  writers, 

I  to  whom  the  pastoral  poets  of  England  owed  such  a  large 

I  debt  in  form  and  substance.     Even  in  the  formal  eclogue 

J   '  the  writers  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renaissance,  Dante, 

A      Petrarch,    Boccaccio,    Sannazaro,    Marot,    and    especially 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      101 

Mantuan,  introduced  so  many  new  elements  that  the 
''smooth-sUding  Mincius"  flows  by  no  means  clear  and  un- 
contaminated  from  its  source.  Spenser's  predecessors  in 
England,  Barclay  and  Googe,  owe  more  to  these  Renaissance 
models  than  to  Vergil,  although  an  occasional  echo  of  a 
VergiUan  line  shows  that  the  originator  of  the  form  is  not 
wholly  forgotten. 

The  Shepheardes  Calender  appeared  anonymously  in  1579, 
with  a  *'glosse"  written  by  a  certain  "E.  K.,"  whose  identity 
has  caused  much  discussion.  The  elaborate  commentaries 
which  had  gathered  about  the  Eclogues  of  Vergil,  explaining 
not  only  difficulties  in  the  text  but  also  allusions  to  con- 
temporary events  and  persons,  both  actual  and  supposed, 
had  set  the  fashion  for  the  addition  of  notes  to  the  Renais- 
sance pastorals.  Some,  like  Petrarch,  wrote  the  com- 
mentaries themselves,  and  it  has  been  said  that  ''E.  K." 
is  no  other  than  Spenser.  But  probably  he  was  a  friend 
of  the  poet,  a  certain  Edward  Kirke,  who  acted  as  inter- 
preter for  ''Immerito."  At  any  rate,  he  knew  his  Vergil, 
and  pointed  out  many  passages  which  showed  that  Spenser 
was  definitely  following  his  classic  master.  Theocritus, 
however,  he  counts  as  of  more  authority  than  Vergil,  ''this 
especially  from  that  deriving,  as  from  the  first  head  and 
wel-spring,  the  whole  invencion  of  his  Aeglogues."  He 
misunderstands  the  Latin  title  which  was  always  used,  and 
says  it  was  from  the  Greek,  —  "  Aeglogai,  as  it  were  aiycov, 
or  aiyov6iJL(A)v  \6yoi,  that  is,  Goteheards  tales." 

Spenser  was  famiUar  with  the  whole  pastoral  tradition 
from  its  Greek  founders  through  the  Latin,  ItaUan,  Spanish, 
and  French  writers,  and  he  borrowed  freely  from  all  sources. 
He  seems  to  have  been  original  in  his  use  of  homely  English 
names  instead  of  the  Greek  or  Latin  conventional  titles  of 
the  earlier  and  much  of  the  later  pastoral,  and  of  a  rustic 
dialect,    which   displeased   Sidney.     ''That   same   framing 


^/^ 


102  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  his  stile,  to  an  old  rustick  language,  I  dare  not  alowe, 
sith  neyther  Theocritus  in  Greeke,  Virgill  in  Latine,  nor 
Sanazar  in  Italian,  did  affect  it."  Thus  he  wrote,  forgetting 
that  Vergil  himself  had  been  criticized  for  his  "  cuium  pecus." 
These  homely  and  famiUar  touches  lend  an  atmosphere  of 
reality  to  the  themes  and  forms  borrowed  from  abroad, 
and  make  the  song-contest  of  Theocritus  and  Vergil,  the 
reUgious  and  moral  satire  of  Mantuan,  and  the  elegy  of 
Marot  seem  almost  native  to  English  soil. 

Of  the  twelve  eclogues,  three  are  definitely  modeled  upon 
Mantuan,  the  July,  the  September  and  October,  and  one,  the 
November,  ''is  made  in  imitation  of  Marot  his  song,  which 
he  made  upon  the  death  of  Loys  the  Frenche  Queene." 
In  this,  however,  the  Vergilian  tradition  shows  itself  per- 
petuated through  the  French,  in  the  change  from  sorrow 
to  joy  at  the  thought  that  the  loved  one  is  not  really  dead, 
but,  as  Vergil  expresses  it, 

candidus  insuetum  miratur  limen  Olympi 
sub  pedibusque  videt  nubes  et  sidera. 

Although  Spenser  was  definitely  imitating  Marot,  he  could 
not  have  failed  to  remember  the  Daphnis  of  Vergil  when 
he  wrote. 

Why  wayle  we  then?  why  weary  we  the  gods  with  playnts, 

As  if  some  evill  were  to  her  betight? 

She  raignes  a  goddesse  now  emong  the  saintes. 

That  whilome  was  the  saynt  of  shepheards  light: 

And  is  enstalled  nowe  in  heavens  hight. 

The  eclogues  that  deal  with  the  love  of  Colin  are  more 
classical  in  form.  The  shepherd  lad  who  "thus  him  playnd " 
is  a  familiar  figure  in  both  Theocritus  and  Vergil.  Like 
Vergil's  Cory  don,  Colin  will 

seeke  for  queens  apples  unripe, 
To  give  my  Rosalind, 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      103 

and  like  Damon  he  expresses  his  jealousy  of  his  successful 
rival.  It  is  the  August  eclogue  which  is  the  most  classical 
in  form.  Like  the  shepherds  of  Sicily  and  of  the  Mantuan 
plains,  Willye  and  Perigot  engage  in  a  contest  in  song. 
The  "Argument"  says  that  this  is  an  imitation  of  Theoc- 
ritus, but  the  mention  of  the  third  and  seventh  Eclogues 
of  Vergil  shows  that  *'E.  K."  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact 
that  the  Roman  tradition  was  influential  here  also.  Willye 
pledges 

A  mazer  ywrought  of  the  maple  warre: 

Wherein  is  enchased  many  a  fayre  sight 

Of  beres  and  tygres,  that  maken  fiers  warre; 
,    And  over  them  spred  a  goodly  wild  vine, 

Entrailed  with  a  wanton  yvie-twine. 

Perigot  in  his  turn  offers  a  spotted  lamb,  the  best  of  his  flock. 
They  call  upon  Cuddie  to  judge  the  contest,  but  at  the  close 
he  is  unable  to  decide  between  them,  and  hke  Palaemon  in 
Vergil's  third  Eclogue^  he  awards  a  prize  to  each.  The  songs 
themselves  are  not  classical  in  form,  for  instead  of  being  in 
answering  couplets  or  quatrains,  of  equal  importance, 
Perigot's  verses  take  the  lead,  and  Willye's  follow  as  a  mere 
refrain  or  "undersong."  Nor  does  the  eclogue  end  with  the 
judge's  decision,  for  Cuddie  himself  sings  a  song  which  Colin 
has  composed  upon  the  subject  of  his  hopeless  love  for  Rosa- 
linde,  for  which  Spenser  had  some  justification  in  the  ninth 
Idyll  of  Theocritus. 

Spenser  introduces  into  his  pastorals  not  only  religious  \ 
satire  after  the  pattern  of  his  Italian  models,  but  also  per-  J     \^ 
sonal  allegory  after  the  manner  of  Vergil  and  his  followers,  j 
The  name  of  Colin  was  only  a  thin  disguise  for  Spenser  him- 
self, whose  love-affair  with  Rosalinde  was  well  known.     As 
Cuddie  says,'  "Who  knows  not  Rosalend?"     "Menalcas," 
says  "E.  K.,"  is  "the  name  of  a  shephearde  in  Virgile;  but 
here  is  meant  a  person  unknowne  and    secrete,  agaynst 


104  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

whome  he  often  bitterly  invayeth."  Hobbinol,  Colin's  friend 
and  confidant,  is  Gabriel  Harvey.  This  personal  allusion 
is  at  its  height  in  Colin  Clout's  Come  Home  Againe,  where 
Hobbinol  again  appears,  and  the  Shepherd  of  the  Ocean, 
ThestyUs,  Harpalus,  Corydon,  Alcyon,  old  Palemon,  and 
Astrofell;  Stella,  *' Phyllis,  Charillis  and  sweet  Amaryllis,'' 
and  the  various  other  shepherds  and  nymphs,  can  be  identi- 
fied with  more  or  less  certainty  with  the  gentlemen  and 
ladies  who,  with  Spenser  himself,  owed  allegiance  to  that 

great  shepheardesse,  that  Cynthia  hight, 
His  liege,  his  ladie,  and  his  lifes  regent. 

Perhaps  the  most  popular  of  all  the  forms  of  the  pastoral 
was  the  dirge,  and  this  Spenser  used,  not  only  in  the  Shep^ 
heardes  Calender ^  but  in  his  Daphnaida  and  his  Astrophelf 
although  neither  of  these  is  in  the  strictly  conventional 
classical  form.  The  Pastorall  Aeglogue  by  Lodowick  Bryskett 
included  in  the  collection  entitled  Astrophel,  is  a  good  ex- 
ample of  this,  with  its  conventional 

Phillisides  is  dead.    0  happie  sprite. 

That  now  in  heav'n  with  blessed  soules  doest  bide. 

Echoes  of  Vergil  in  Spenser's  pastoral  poems  are  fairly 
frequent.  Most  of  those  in  the  Shepheardes  Calender  are 
noted  by  "E.  K."  in  his  gloss.  ''His  clownish  gyfts,"  says 
the  commentator,  ''imitateth  Virgil's  verse, 

'Rusticus  es  Corydon,  nee  munera  curat  Alexis.'" 

Thenot's  emblem  in  the  April  eclogue,  "O  quam  te  memorem, 
virgo?"  and  Hobbinol's,  **0  dea  certe,"  are  said  to  have  been 
taken  from  the  passage  in  the  Aeneid  describing  Aeneas' 
meeting  with  his  mother,  which  is  "most  divinely  set  forth." 
He  is  also  careful  to  explain  the  passage  in  the  October 
eclogue  which  tells  how  the  "  Romish  Tityrus  " 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      105 

left  his  oaten  reede, 
Whereon  he  earst  had  taught  his  flocks  to  feede, 
And  laboured  lands  to  yield  the  timely  eare, 
And  eft  did  sing  of  warres  and  deadly  drede, 
So  as  the  heavens  did  quake  his  verse  to  here, 

as  referring  to  the  AeglogueSy  the  BucoUques,  and  the  "divine 
Aeneis.'^    He  also  mentions  the  lines, 

For  als  at  home  I  have  a  syre, 
A  stepdame  eke,  as  whott  as  fyre, 
That  dewly  adayes  counts  mine, 

which  is  Menalcas'  excuse  for  refusing  to  stake  one  of  his 
flock  in  his  song-contest  with  Damoetas: 

est  mihi  namque  domi  pater,  est  iniusta  noverca; 
bisque  die  numerant  ambo  pecus,  alter  et  haedos. 

In  Colin  ClouVs  Come  Home  Againe,  there  are  two  reminis- 
cences of  the  familiar  verses  of  VergiFs  first  Eclogue, 

tu,  Tityre,  lentus  in  umbra 
formosam  resonare  doces  AmarylHda  silvas, 

especially  marked  in  the  lines, 

The  speaking  woods  and  murmuring  waters  fall. 
Her  name  He  teach  in  knowen  termes  to  frame. 

But  who  can  say  whether  the  ever-recurring  ending  of  the 
pastoral,  both  in  Spenser's  work  and  in  that  of  other  writers 
of  the  eclogue,  is  due  to  Vergil's 

ite  domum  saturae,  venit  Hesperus,  ite  capellae, 

or  to  Mantuan's 

sed  iam  Vesper  adest  et  sol  se  in  nube  recondens, 
dum  cadit,  agricolis  vicinos  nuntiat  imbres; 
cogere  et  ad  caulas  pecudes  convertere  tempus? 


106  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

In  the  work  of  the  majority  of  those  who  followed  Spenser 
in  the  writing  of  the  pastoral,  there  is  little  trace  of  pure 
Vergilian  influence.  Their  model  is  usually  Colin  and  not 
Tityrus,  and  the  eclogue  as  exemplified  in  Peele's  Welcome 
/  to  the  Earl  of  Essex,  in  Drayton's  Shepherd^s  Garland,  in 
Basse's  Three  Pastoral  Eclogues  and  his  Clio,  in  Browne's 
Shepherd's  Pipe,  in  Brathwaite's  Shepheards  Tales,  or  in 
Wither 's  Shepherd's  Hunting,  is  removed  by  many  degrees 
of  relationship  from  the  eclogue  of  Vergil.  In  general  they 
keep  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  shepherds  or  a  mournful 
soliloquy  of  a  love-sick  swain;  they  develope  to  its  fullest 
possibilities  the  personal  allegory  or  the  religious  satire.  In 
this  last  is  shown  the  persistence  of  the  influence  of  Mantuan, 
especially  strong  in  Sabie's  Pan's  Pipe  and  the  Eclogues 
included  in  Lodge's  Fig  for  Momus.  The  crowning  extrava- 
gance in  the  use  of  the  pastoral  form  for  the  purpose  of 
exposing  the  corruption  of  the  Church  is  found  in  Francis 
Quarles'  Shepheards  Oracles  of  1646. 

In  some  cases  there  are  indications,  however,  that  the 
writer  was  going  back  to  the  fountain-head  for  his  inspira- 
tion. Richard  Barnfield  wrote  his  Affectionate  Shepherd  in 
obvious  elaboration  of  Vergil's  Alexis,  and  he  "joined  with  his 
love  for  his  Roman  model  a  genuine  love  for  the  country, 
further  exhibited  in  the  Shepherd's  Content,  which  sets 
forth  the  advantages  of  a  rural  life.  Phineas  Fletcher's 
allegiance  was  divided.  In  his  Purple  Island,  which  itself 
has  a  pastoral  setting,  the  account  of  the  island  being  put 
into  the  mouth  of  the  shepherd  Thirsil,  he  says, 

Two  shepherds  most  I  love,  with  just  adoring, 
That  Mantuan  swain,  who  chang'd  his  slender  reed, 
To  trumpet's  martial  voice,  and  war's  loud  roaring, 
From  Corydon  to  Turnus'  daring  deed; 

And  next  our  home-bred  Colin  sweetest  firing; 

Their  steps  not  following  close,  but  far  admiring; 
To  lackey  one  of  these,  is  all  my  pride's  aspiring. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      107 

In  this  curious  poem,  the  influence  of  Spenser  is  very  strong, 
especially  in  the  detailed  descriptions  of  the  allegorical 
figures  of  the  Virtues  and  Vices,  and  of  their  battles  for  the 
possession  of  the  Isle  of  Man.  But  incidental  echoes  of 
Vergil  and  references  to  him  are  frequent.  The  Roman 
poet  is  superior  to  his  Greek  models  both  in  epic  and  in 
pastoral: 

Who  has  not  often  read  Troy's  twice  sung  fires, 

And  at  the  second  time  twice  better  sung? 

Who  has  not  heard  the  Arcadian  shepherd's  quires. 

Which  now  have  gladly  chang'd  their  native  tongue; 
And  sitting  by  slow  Mincius,  sport  their  fill, 
With  sweeter  voice  and  never-equalled  skill, 

Chanting  their  amorous  lays  unto  a  R©man  quill? 

There  is  an  echo  of  the  close  of  the  last  Eclogue, 

Home  then,  my  full  fed  lambs;  the  night  comes,  home  apace, 

or  of  the  invocation  of  the  Aeneid, 

Tell  me,  oh  tell  me  then,  thou  holy  Muse! 
Sacred  Thespio!  what  the  cause  may  be 
Of  such  despite, 

or  an  imitation  of  a  Vergilian  simile, 

But  like  a  mighty  rock,  whose  unmov'd  sides 
The  hostile  sea  assaults  with  furious  wave.  .  .  . 
Such  was  this  knight's  undaunted  constancy.' 

Or  it  may  be  a  reminiscence  of  the  glorification  of  country 
life  in  the  second  Georgic,  in  the  passage  beginning, 

Thrice,  oh,  thrice  happy  shepherd's  life  and  state. 

Fletcher's  Piscatory  Eclogues  show  the  influence  of  several 
of  his   predecessors.     They   include   the   love-lament   and 
3  Cf.  Aen.  10.  693-6.     Also  cf.  Tennyson's  WiU. 


108  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

song-contest  of  the  classic  poets  and  Spenser,  and  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  corruption  of  the  clergy  of  Mantuan  and 
Spenser,  transferred  to  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds  the 
fisher-folk  of  Sannazaro.  But  the  music  of  that  "sweeter 
voice"  and  the  "Roman  quill"  is  still  sounding  in  his  ears, 
and  Thelgon  and  Thomalin  and  Myrtilus,  although  they 
live  by  the^sea  and  do  not  tend  flocks  upon  the  plains,  often 
speak  through  the  hps  of  Tityrus.  Especially  is  this  true 
in  the  seventh  Eclogiie,  The  Prize,  which  records  a  contest 
in  song  between  Daphnis,  the  representative  of  the  shep- 
herds, and  Thomalin,  the  champion  of  the  fishermen.  Their 
songs,  altemis  versibiis,  are  concerned  with  the  time-honored 
topics  of  the  beauty  of  their  sweethearts,  the  gifts  they  have 
brought  them,  the  patronage  of  the  gods,  and  the  rival 
claims  of  certain  trees  favored  by  their  mistresses  or  their 
patron  deities. 

A  multiplicity  of  influences  is  evident  also  in  Milton's 
Lycidas*  the  most  perfect  example  in  English  of  the 
pastoral  elegy  raised  to  a  lyrical  height  hitherto  unat- 
tained.  Here  appears  St.  Peter,  who  had  figured  in  one 
of  Petrarch's  eclogues  under  the  name  of  Pamphilus,  and 
the  whole  terrible  indictment  of  the 

Blind  mouths!  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold 
A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learnt  aught  else  the  least 
That  to  the  faithful  Herdman's  art  belongs, 

is  a  direct  inheritance  from  the  ecclesiastical  pastorals  of 
the  humanists  and  of  Spenser  and  their  other  English  imi- 
tators. The  writers  of  religious  eclogues  naturally  seized 
upon  the  pastoral  imagery  of  the  Messianic  prophecies  and 
the  Gospels  as  a  justfication  of  their  use  of  the  word  pastor 
in  its  double  sense.    But  Milton's  inheritance  was  from 

*  This  earlier  portion  of  Milton's  work  may  be  discussed  more  prof- 
itably here  than  in  the  next  chapter. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      109 

the  classics  as  well  as  from  the  Renaissance.  Theocritus 
and  Vergil  were  his  models  in  the  general  scheme  of  the  elegy, 
in  the  representation  of  King  and  his  friends  as  shepherds 
singing  for  "old  Damoetas,"  and  in  the  change  from  the 
minor  key  of  mourning  to  the  shout  of  triumph  at  the  end; 
and  it  is  hard  to  distinguish  the  waters  of  the  ''fountain 
Arethuse"  from  those  of  the  "smooth-sliding  Mincius/ 
Also  who  can  tell  whether  he  is  thinking  of  his  Greek  or  Latin 
model  when  he  asks , 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas? 

or  reproaches  the  Nymphs  for  their  absence  at  the  time  of  his 
death?      Yet  in  the  line, 

Phoebus  replied,  and  touched  my  trembling  ears, 

or  in  the  lines  of  ComuSy 

Two  such  I  saw  what  time  the  laboured  ox 
In  his  loose  traces  from  the  furrow  came, 

and  in  the  Elder  Brother's  greeting  to  the  Attendant  Spirit 

Thyrsis!  whose  artful  strains  have  oft  delayed 
The  huddling  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal, 

there   are   obvious   reminiscences   of  Vergil.    And   Milton 
has  adopted  the  closing  verse  of  the  first  Eclogue^ 

maioresque  cadunt  altis  de  montibus  umbrae, 

and  expressed  the  thought  with  equal  beauty  and  simplic- 
ity in  his  last  lines, 

And  now  the  sun  had  stretched  out  all  the  hills. 
And  now  was  dropped  into  the  western  bay. 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitched  his  mantle  blue: 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new. 

The  influenqe  of  the  Aeneid  is  not  so  definite  and  clear-cut 


Lr^-* 


110  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

in  the  Renaissance  as  that  of  the  Eclogues.  It  was  in  the 
seventeenth  and  early  eighteenth  centuries  that  the  Aeneid 
was  regarded  as  the  typical  classical  epic,  and  used  as  a 
model  for  native  productions.  In  the  sixteenth  century 
its  popularity  is  to  be  traced  not  so  much  in  the  perpetua- 
tion of  the  type,  as  in  the  incidental  imitations  of  episode 
and  language,  as  in  Sackville's  Induction,  the  drama,  and 
Spenser's  Faerie  Queene. 

It  was  really  as  a  romance  that  Spenser  saw  the  story  of 
Aeneas,  not  as  a  model  in  form  and  style,  although,  as  we 
shall  see  later,  he  endeavored  to  attain  the  requisite  epic 
unity  by  plunging  in  medias  res.  But  he  practically  threw 
the  classical  structure  and  the  classical  manner  to  the 
winds,  and  adopted  those  portions  of  the  narrative  which 
appealed  to  his  romantic  sense  —  the  story  of  Polydorus, 
the  allegorical  figures  at  the  gate  of  the  Underworld,  and 
the  description  of  Lavinia's  blush,  with  its  vivid  touch  of  color. 
In  the  first  stanzas  of  the  Faerie  Queene,  Spenser  gives 
promise  of  VergiUan  imitation  which  he  did  not  fulfill. 
He  was  evidently  conscious  and  wished  his  readers  to  be 
conscious  that  he,  like  Vergil,  was  passing  from  pastoral  to 
epic,  and  that,  like  Vergil  in  Augustan  Rome,  he  was  the 
founder  of  a  new  type  of  poetry  for  Elizabethan  England. 
For  he  begins  the  poem  with  a  stanza  which  frankly  copies 
the  opening  of  the  Aeneid,  with  its  four  disputed  introductory 
lines. 

Lo!  I  the  man,  whose  Muse  whylome  did  maske, 

As  time  her  taught,  in  lowly  shephards  weeds, 

Am  now  enforst,  a  farre  unfitter  taske, 

For  trumpets  steme  to  chaunge  mine  oaten  reeds, 

And  sing  of  knights  and  ladies  gentle  deeds; 

Whose  praises  having  slept  in  silence  long. 

Me,  all  too  meane,  the  sacred  Muse  areeds 

To  blazon  broade  emongst  her  learned  throng; 

Fierce  warres  and  faithful!  loves  shall  moralize  my  song. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      111 

Also  in  his  dedicatory  sonnet  to  Sir  Francis  Walsingham, 
he  calls  that  knight  the  ''Mecenas  of  this  age,"  and  com- 
pares himself  to  the  "Mantuane  poete.'' 

This  lowly  Muse,  that  learns  like  steps  to  trace, 
Flies  for  like  aide  unto  your  patronage. 

It  is  not  to  the  example  of  Vergil  alone,  however,  that  he 
appeals  in  the  famous  letter  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  to  justify 
his  allegorical  plan.  "In  which,"  he  says,  "I  have  followed 
all  the  antique  poets  historicall:  first  Homere,  who  in 
the  persons  of  Agamemnon  and  Ulysses  hath  ensampled 
a  good  governour  and  a  vertuous  man,  the  one  in  his  Ilias, 
the  other  in  his  Odysseis;  then  Virgil,  whose  like  intention 
was  to  doe  in  the  person  of  Aeneas ;  after  him  Ariosto  com- 
prised them  both  in  his  Orlando;  and  lately  Tasso  dissevered 
them  againe,  and  formed  both  parts  in  two  persons,  namely 
that  part  which  they  in  philosophy  call  Ethice,  or  vertues  of 
a  private  man,  coloured  in  his  Rinaldo;  the  other  named 
Politice  in  his  Godfredo."  Thus  not  only  the  epics  of 
antiquity  but  the  romances  of  the  Renaissance  were  before 
his  riiind  as  he  planned  his  work.  It  was  with  an  obvious 
effort  to  combine  the  two  that  he  laid  out  the  scheme  of 
his  poem.  Undoubtedly  the  romance  attracted  him  more 
strongly,  with  its  chivalric  tone,  and  its  outward  beauty  of 
color  and  perhaps  its  greater  opportunity  for  allegorical  treat- 
ment. Indeed,  he  himself  had  said  that  it  was  his  purpose 
to  follow  Ariosto,  as  a  letter  from  Gabriel  Harvey  proves. 
He  wrote  in  1580  in  reply  to  a  letter  from  Spenser  asking 
his  opinion  of  his  plan,  "I  am  voyde  of  al  judgement,  if 
your  Nine  Comoedies  .  .  .  come  not  neerer  Ariostoes 
comoedies  .  .  .  than  that  Elvish  Queene  doth  to  his  Orlando 
FuriosOy  which,  notwithstanding,  you  wil  needes  seeme  to 
emulate,  and  hope  to  overgo,  as  you  flatly  professed  your 
self  in  one  of  your  last  letters."    And  so  the  poem  is,  in 


112  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

reality,  a  romance,  with  the  great  British  hero  of  romance 
as  its  central  figure,  with  all  the  romantic  characteristics 
of  detailed  descriptions  and  chivalric  adventures  and  knightly 
combats.  The  battles  of  the  Red  Crosse  Knight  or  of  Sir 
Guy  on  are  not  those  of  Achilles  or  Aeneas,  nor  are  the 
descriptions  of  Una  or  Duessa  or  Britomart  like  the  pictures 
which  the  poets  of  antiquity  drew  of  Helen  or  Dido  or  Camilla 
or  Fame.  He  might  have  had  in  mind  the  mediaeval  ro- 
mances of  Troy  and  Aeneas,  but  not  the  original  Greek  and 
Latin.  Neither  is  the  movement  that  of  a  classical  epic. 
There  is  a  certain  unity  secured  by  linking  together  all 
the  books  by  the  appearance  of  the  figure  of  Arthur,  but  it  is 
not  the  essential  unity  of  the  story  of  the  adventures  of 
Odysseus  or  of  Aeneas.  The  real  interest  of  the  reader  is 
centered,  not  on  Arthur,  but  on  the  hero  of  the  particular 
book,  and  the  point  to  which  he  looks  forward  is  the  outcome 
of  the  adventure  of  Sir  Guyon  or  of  Britomart,  and  not  the 
end  of  the  Prince's  search  for  his  Faerie  Queene.  It  is  pos- 
sible that  this  would  have  been  somewhat  changed  if  Spenser 
had  finished  his  colossal  task,  and  had  brought  us  at  last 
back  to  the  court  of  Gloriana;  but  with  the  materials  at 
hand  and  the  plan  which  we  know  he  had,  of  representing 
twelve  separate  virtues,  he  never  could  have  achieved  true 
epic  unity.  His  action  could  not  have  been  either  "one" 
or  "entire"  although  it  was  "great." 

It  was  clearly  his  desire,  however,  to  emulate  the  classic 
epic  poets  in  the  structure  of  his  poem,  and  he  evidently 
felt  that  this  could  be  done  by  following  Horace's  rule 
for  plunging  in  medias  res.  This  he  explains  in  his  letter 
to  Raleigh;  "For  an  historiographer  discourseth  of  affayres 
orderly  as  they  were  donne,  accounting  as  well  the  times  as 
the  actions;  but  a  poet  thrusteth  into  the  middest,  even 
where  it  most  concemeth  him,  and  there  recoursing  to  the 
thinges  forepaste,  and  divining  of  thinges  to  come,  maketh 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE     113 

a  pleasing  analysis  of  all."  He  has,  however,  left  his  ac- 
count of  the  "thinges  forepaste"  too  long,  planning  to 
close  his  poem  with  the  explanation  which  the  reader  needs 
at  the  beginning,  or  at  least  as  near  the  beginning  as  it  is 
put  by  Homer  or  Vergil.  Hence  he  feels  the  necessity  of 
writing  an  introductory  letter,  which  rather  hinders  than 
helps  in  ''gathering  the  whole  intention  of  the  conceit," 
and  does  nothing  toward  improving  the  epic  imity  of  the 
poem. 

It  is  impossible  therefore  to  say  that  the  Faerie  Queene  is 
Homeric  or  VergiUan  in  structure.  We  have  seen,  however, 
that  Spenser  had  the  classic  poets  in  mind,  and  it  is  natural  to 
assume  that  imitations  and  echoes  of  Vergil  are  numerous. 
Any  detailed  discussion  of  this,  however,  would  degenerate 
into  a  mere  compilation  of  parallel  passages.  Their  impor- 
tance hes  in  the  nature  of  the  passages  chosen  for  imitation. 
It  is  not  burning  Troy  that  attracts  the  poet,  nor  the  funeral 
games  of  Anchises,  nor  the  epic  combat  of  Turnus  and  Aeneas, 
but  such  incidents  and  pictures  as  are  suitable  to  his  romantic 
story.  Spenser  shows  his  famiUarity  with  the  story  of  the 
Aeneid  in  Paridell's  abstract  of  the  narrative,  though  it 
serves  only  as  an  introduction  to  Britomart's  reminder  of 
the  founding  of  Troynovant  by  Brute.  The  first  elaborate 
reminiscence  of  the  Aeneid  in  the  Faerie  Queene  is  in  the 
adventure  of  the  Red  Crosse  Knight  and  Fidessa  with  the 
bleeding  tree.  They  sat  down  under  the  shadow  of  two 
trees,  and  the  Knight,  to  make  a  garland  for  the  lady,  tried 
to  break  off  a  branch. 

He  pluckt  a  bough;  out  of  whose  rift  there  came 
Smal  drops  of  gory  bloud,  that  trickled  down  the  same. 

Therewith  a  piteous  yelling  voice  was  heard, 
Crying,  "O  spare  with  guilty  hands  to  teare 
My  tender  sides  in  this  rough  rynd  embard; 


114  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

But  fly,  ah!  fly  far  hence  away,  for  feare 

Least  to  you  hap  that  happened  to  me  heare. 

And  to  this  wretched  lady,  my  deare  love; 

O  too  deare  love,  love  bought  with  death  too  deare!" 

Astond  he  stood,  and  up  his  heare  did  hove, 

And  with  that  suddein  horror  could  no  member  move.*^ 

Although  the  story  of  Fradubio  was  not  like  that  of  Poly- 
dorus,  these  are  almost  the  very  words  that  Aeneas  heard 
on  the  shores  of  Thrace  from  the  tomb  of  Priam's  murdered 
son.  Another  equally  close  resemblance  is  that  between 
the  meeting  of  Belphoebe  and  Trompart  in  the  forest  and 
the  encounter  of  Aeneas  with  his  mother  after  landing  in 
Africa.    Belphoebe  thus  accosts  Trompart, 

Hayle  groome!  didst  not  thou  see  a  bleeding  hind? 
and  he  replies, 

O  goddesse,  (for  such  I  thee  take  to  bee; 
For  nether  doth  thy  face  terrestriall  shew, 
Nor  voyce  sound  mortall)  I  avow  to  thee, 
Such  wounded  beast  as  that  I  did  not  see, 
Sith  earst  into  this  forrest  wild  I  came.* 

With  the  figures  of  Payne,  Revenge,  Despight,  Treason, 
Hate,  Feare,  and  the  other  allegorical  personages  which  Sir 
Guyon  saw  at  the  entrance  to  "Plutoes  griesly  rayne," 
we  may  compare  those  which  Aeneas  saw  at  the  mouth  of 
Hades.  Although  the  list  is  not  the  same,  and  the  existence 
of  similar  figures  in  allegories  of  the  type  of  the  Roman  de 
la  Rose  may  have  had  some  influence  on  Spenser  here,  the 

»  Faerie  Queene,  I.  2.  30  ff.  Cf.  Aen.  3.  24-48.  Cf.  also  Ariosto, 
Orl  Fur.  6.  26  ff.  and  Dante,  Inf.  13.  But  Spenser's  model,  in  thought 
and  language,  is  evidently  Vergil. 

•  F.  Q.  II.  3. 32, 33.    Cf.  Aen.  1. 314-334. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      115 

Vergilian  account  must  surely  have  been  in  the  poet's  mind, 
especially  in  view  of  the  lines, 

Whiles  sad  Celeno  sitting  in  a  clifte, 
A  song  of  bale  and  bitter  sorrow  sings, 

which  call  up  an  essentially  Vergilian  picture.' 

The  image  of  the  eagle  of  Jove  carrying  off  Ganymede, 
while  the  shepherds  stand  staring  after  him,  is  undoubtedly 
copied  from  Vergil,  and  the  description  of  the  Gulfe  of 
Greedinesse  and  the  Rock  of  Vile  Reproche  opposite  it  is 
reminiscent  of  Vergil's  Scylla  and  Charybdis.  Besides  these 
more  elaborate  resemblances,  there  are  many  similarities 
in  briefer  passages,  in  single  lines  or  phrases,  such  as  the 
description  of  the  gates  of  sleep,  which  are  of  ivory  and  silver, 
of  the  **  snake  in  hidden  weedes,"  of  Belphoebe, 

Such  as  Diana  by  the  sandy  shore 

Of  swift  Eurotas,  or  on  Cynthus  greene, 

the  picture  of  Aetna,  the  comparison  of  the  blushing  cheek 
of  a  maiden  to  roses  mixed  with  lilies  or  to  ivory  overlaid 
with  vermilion,  and  the  use  of  the  figure  of  the  weary  team 
to  conclude  a  canto  of  the  Faerie  Queene  or  a  book  of  the 
Georgics, 

But  here  my  wearie  teeme,  nigh  overspent, 
Shall  breathe  itself  awhile,  after  so  long  a  went.* 

The  epic  simile  is  put  to  good  use  by  Spenser,  and  many  of 
the   comparisons   have   a   true   Vergilian   ring.     Such,   for 

»  F.  Q.  II.  7. 21  ff.     Cf .  Aen.  6. 273-81  and  3. 245-6. 

»  Cf.  F.  Q.  III.  11.  34  and  Aen.  5.  252-7;  F.  Q.  II.  12. 3,  4,  Aen.  3. 
420-432;  F.  Q.  I.  1.  40,  Aen.  6.  893-6;  F.  Q.  I.  9.  28,  II.  5.  34,  Eel  3. 
92;  F.  Q.  II.  3.  31,  Am.  1.  498-9;  F.  Q.  I.  11.  44,  Aen.  3.  570  ff;  F.  Q. 
II.  3.  22,  V.  3.  23,  Aen.  12.  68-9;  F.  Q.  IV.  5.  46,  Georg.  2.  541  f. 
It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  the  majority  of  the  Vergilian  imitations 
are  found  in  the  earlier  books  of  the  Faerie  Qtieene. 


116  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

example,  is  the  image  of  the  fall  of  an  aged  tree  or  the  rush 
of  a  loosened  rock  down  the  mountainside,  the  comparison 
of  Una  and  the  morning  star,  the  description  of  the  flood 
that  descends 

And  the  sad  husbandmans  long  hope  doth  throw 
A  downe  the  streame, 

the  comparison  of  the  knight  to  a  snake  that  has  cast  its  skin, 
and  the  picture  of  the  battle  of  the  bulls,  which  is  a  favorite 
with  both  poets. * 

These  are  the  choices  of  a  romance-lover.  But  the  roman- 
tic figure  of  Dido  is  conspicuously  absent,  perhaps  merely 
by  chance,  perhaps  because  the  concentrated  passion  of 
the  deserted  queen  would  be  incongruous  in  this  leisurely 
narrative,  and  we  may  give  Spenser  the  credit  of  having 
been  unwilling  to  bring  her  down  from  the  heights  of  tragedy 
as  Chaucer  had  done.  But  his  contemporaries  were  not 
so  careful. 

The  tragic  story  of  Dido  had  been  dramatized  as  early 
as  the  days  of  the  Roman  emperors,  and  had  furnished  the 
theme  of  Renaissance  plays  on  the  continent  both  in  Latin 
and  in  the  vernaculars,  as  in  the  work  of  Dolce  and  Jodelle. 
The  sixteenth  century  in  England  saw  the  production  of 
four  versions  of  her  passion  and  death.  Three  of  these 
were  school  or  university  plays,  two  of  which  are  not  now 
extant.  Some  time  between  1522  and  1531,  John  Ritwise, 
the  master  of  St.  Paul's  School,  ''made  the  Tragedy  of  Dido 
out  of  Virgil,"  and  with  his  pupils  acted  it  on  the  occasion 
of  a  visit  from  Cardinal  Wolsey.  In  1564,  Ehzabeth  stopped 
at  Oxford,  and  on  August  7,  a  play  of  Dido,  in  Latin  hexam- 
eters, written  by  Edward  HalUwell,  a  fellow  of  King's  College, 
was  performed  in  her  honor.    We  have  the  word  of  a  con- 

•  a.  F.  Q.  I.  8.  22,  Aen.  5.  448  f;  F.  Q.  I.  IL  54,  Aen.  12.  684  flf. 
F.  Q.  1.  12.  21,  Aen.  8.  589  ff;  F.  Q.  II.  11.  18,  Aen.  2.  304  ff;  F.  Q.  IV; 
3.  23,  Aen.  2.  471  flf;  F.  Q.  IV.  4.  18,  Aen.  12.  715  ff,  Gearg.  3.  219  ff. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      117 

temporary,  Nicholas  Robinson,  that  it  was  a  "novum  opus 
sed  venustum  et  elegans."  Neither  of  these  plays  has  sur- 
vived the  lapse  of  time,  but  there  is  at  Christ's  Church  a 
unique  manuscript  of  a  play  of  Dido  by  WiUiam  Gager. 
This  was  produced  in  1583,  when  Albertus  Alasco,  Prince 
Palatine  of  Siradia  in  Poland,  was  visiting  the  English 
Elisa,  and  the  subject  was  doubtless  thought  very  appro- 
priate. It  was  a  curious  mixture  of  a  pageant  and  a  Senecan 
tragedy.  It  combined  an  elaborate  stage  setting  of  storm 
and  banquet  and  death  scene,  with  the  characteristic  Senecan 
rhetoric  and  sententiousness,  the  stichomythia,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  ghost  of  Sichaeus.  Much  of  the  wording 
is  taken  from  the  Aeneid,  but  the  hexameters  are  tortured 
into  neo-classical  iambics,  and  hence  lose  their  dignity  and 
sonorousness.  Associated  with  Gager  in  the  production  of 
the  play,  was  George  Peele,  who  later  followed  Vergil 
rather  closely  in  the  last  part  of  his  poem.  The  Tale  of 
Troy,  from  the  building  of  the  wooden  horse  through  the 
adventures  of   Aeneas. 

In  1594  was  published  The  Tragedie  of  Dido  Queene  of 
Carthage:  Played  by  the  Children  of  her  Maiesties  ChappelL 
Written  by  Christopher  Marlowe  and  Thomas  Nash.  Gent. 
This  was  a  true  romantic  drama,  with  its  touches  of  humor 
in  the  parts  of  Cupid  and  the  Nurse,  and  its  compHcation 
of  the  tragedy  by  introducing  the  love  of  Anna  for  larbas. 
The  Elizabethan  love  of  a  multiplicity  of  deaths  at  the  end 
of  a  play  is  thus  satisfied,  for  larbas  stabs  himself  at  the 
funeral  pyre  of  Dido  and  Anna  then  takes  her  own  life. 
Also  the  gruesome  additions  to  the  story  which  Aeneas  tells 
of  the  last  night  of  Troy  are  evidently  made  to  comply 
with  the  demand  of  the  audience  for  horrors.  Elizabethan 
too  are  the  extravagantly  luscious  descriptions,  the  senti- 
mental additions  to  the  discussion  by  Aeneas,  Achates, 
and  Ascanius  of  the  pictures  of  Troy  on  the  walls  of  the 


118  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Temple  of  Juno,  and  ^uch  romantic  touches  as  those  in 

the  un-Vergilian  speeches  of  Dido  and  Aeneas  telling  of  their 

love  for  each  other.     These  lines,  for  instance,  put  into  the 

mouth  of  Dido,  have  and  could  have  no  counterpart  in 

Vergil  I 

I'll  make  me  bracelets  of  his  golden  hair; 

His  glist'ring  eyes  shall  be  my  looking-glass, 

His  lips  an  altar,  where  I'll  offer  up 

As  many  kisses  as  the  sea  hath  sands. 

But  if  we  leave  these  things  out  of  account,  the  two 
dramatists  have  followed  the  narrative  of  the  Aeneid  very 
closely,  and  in  many  places  have  introduced  into  the  dialogue 
what  is  virtually  a  translation  of  the  Latin.  Jupiter's 
prophecy  to  Venus,  the  conversation  between  Venus  and 
Aeneas  in  the  forest,  IHoneii^'  appeal  for  hospitality  at 
Carthage,  the  plot  of  Juno  to  bring  about  the  marriage, 
the  prayer  of  larbas,  the  message  of  Mercury  to  Aeneas, 
Dido's  remonstrances  and  her  final  curse,  are  the  chief 
instances,  but  there  are  many  brief  passages  which  are 
taken  straight  from  the  Aeneid.  In  the  last  act,  where 
the  Vergilian  influence  is  especially  marked.  Dido  and 
Aeneas  several  times  break  into  Latin  hexameters.  Dido's 
curse  is  a  good  illustration: 

And  now,  ye  gods,  that  guide  the  starry  frame, 
And  order  all  things  at  yom-  high  dispose. 
Grant,  though  the  traitors  land  in  Italy, 
They  may  be  still  tormented  with  unrest; 
And  from  mine  ashes,  let  a  conqueror  rise, 
That  may  revenge  this  treason  to  a  queen. 
By  ploughing  up  his  countries  with  the  sword. 
Betwixt  this  land  and  that  be  never  league, 
Littora  littoribiLS  contraria,  fitictibus  undas 
Imprecor;  arma  armis:  pugnent  ipsiqvs  nepotea: 
Live  false  Aeneas!  truest  Dido  dies  I 
Sic,  sic  juvat  ire  sttb  umbras. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      119 

Thomas  Heywood's  Iron  Age  similarly  makes  use  of 
Vergilian  hexameters.  The  second  act  of  the  second  part 
of  the  play  represents  the  scene  on  the  seashore,  when 
Sinon's  wily  words  induce  the  Trojans,  in  spite  of  Laocoon's 
advice,  to  bring  the  wooden  horse  inside  the  city,  and  also 
depicts  the  terror  and  confusion  within  the  walls  after  the 
Greeks  have  begun  their  work  of  destruction.  The  ghost 
of  Hector  appears  in  pursuit  of  Aeneas,  and  when  he  is 
finally  recognized,  exhorts  the  future  founder  of  the  Roman 
race  to  escape  from  Troy.     After  paraphrasing  the  lines, 

sat  patriae  Priamoque  datum:    si  Pergama  dextra 
defendi  possent,  etiam  hac  defensa  fuissent, 

he  closes  with  the  following  Latin  verses,  which  are  copied 
from  the  Aeneid,  with  the  alteration  of  only  one  word: 

Heu  fuge  nate  Dea;    teque  his  pater  eripe  flammis; 
Hostis  habet  muros,  ruit  alto  a  culmine  Troia 
Sacra,  suosque  tibi  commendat  Troia  penates. 
Hos  cape  fatorum  comites,  his  moenia  quaere, 
Magna  pererrato  statues  quae  denique  ponto.^° 

The  next  act  carries  the  story  on  through  the  scenes  on 
the  last  night  of  Troy,  introducing  the  Cassandra-Coroebus 
episode  and  the  death  of  Priam,  all  with  a  certain  measure 
of  imitation  and  paraphrase  of  the  Vergilian  account. 
Aeneas  plays  a  very  small  part  in  the  Iron  Age,  however, 
and  the  only  references  to  his  adventures  after  the  fall  of 
Troy  are  in  Cassandra's  early  prophecy  of  the  rearing  of 
another  Ilium  and  Ulysses'  report  after  the  Greeks  have 
taken  possession  of  the  city, 

Aeneas,  wdth  twenty  two  ships  well  fumish'd,  .  .  . 
Is  fled  to  sea. 

10  Cf.  Aen.  2.  289-95. 


120  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

These  plays  are  the  only  examples  of  any  extensive  use 
of  the  story  of  the  Aeneid  in  Elizabethan  drama.  There 
are,  however,  many  indications  of  a  knowledge  of  Vergil. 
The  Pedant  in  the  University  plays  frequently  quotes  him 
together  with  other  classical  writers,  and  there  are  quota- 
tions and  allusions  in  many  of  the  stage  plays. 

The  atmosphere  of  mediaeval  romance  rather  than  of  the 
Aeneid  clings  round  such  a  passage  as  that  in  the  Merchant 
of  Venice, 

In  such  a  night 
Stood  Dido  with  a  willow  in  her  hand 
Upon  the  wild  sea  banks,  and  waft  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage, 

and  it  is  obvious  that  of  the  two  great  narrative  poets  of 
Rome,  Ovid  is  far  the  more  congenial  to  Shakespeare,  and 
far  more  frequently  imitated  by  him.  The  whole  question 
as  to  whether  Shakespeare  knew  any  classic  poet  in  the 
original,  or  whether  he  was  depending  upon  translations, 
is  a  very  vexed  one.  Without  going  to  one  extreme  with 
Upton  and  Whalley,  and  marshalling  a  large  number  of 
parallel  passages  to  prove  Shakespeare's  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  classics,  or  to  the  other  extreme  with  Farmer,  who 
denied  the  least  particle  of  classical  information  to  the  poet, 
we  may  steer  a  middle  course  and  take  Ben  Jonson's  "little 
Latin  and  less  Greek"  at  its  face  value.  As  Spencer  Baynes 
argues,  if  Shakespeare  attended  the  Stratford  Grammar 
School,  where  in  all  probability  a  fair  training  in  Latin  was 
given  and  the  chief  Roman  writers  of  prose  and  poetry 
were  read,  he  must  have  carried  away  with  him  at  least  a 
working  knowledge  of  the  Roman  tongue,  "little"  though 
it  might  seem  to  Jonson's  scholarly  mind,  and  a  familiarity 
with  Vergil's  great  masterpiece.  It  may  be  assumed  that 
the  references  to  the  story  of  the  Aeneid ,  few  though  they 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSANCE      121 

be,  even  the  reference  quoted  above  with  its  essentially 
romantic  flavor,  and  the  instances  where  Shakespeare  seems 
to  be  echoing  Vergilian  language,  are  due  to  a  first-hand 
knowledge  of  the  poem,  and  not  to  a  familiarity  merely 
with  Douglas'  or  Surrey's  translation.  These  echoes  also 
are  few  in  number.  Among  them  may  be  mentioned  the 
line  from  the  Tempest, 

Great  Juno  comes:  I  know  her  by  her  gait, 

and  the  speech  by  Aegon  in  the  Comedy  of  Errors,  beginning, 
A  heavier  task  could  not  have  been  imposed. 

The  details  in  the  picture  of  the  fall  of  Troy  in  the  Rape  of 
Lucrece  are  also  probably  taken  partly  from  the  second 
book  of  the  Aeneid  itself,  especially  those  in  the  following 
hues : 

Till  she  despairing  Hecuba  beheld, 

Staring  on  Priam's  wounds  with  her  old  eyes, 
Which  bleeding  under  Pyrrhus'  proud  foot  lies. 


At  last  she  sees  a  wretched  image  bound, 
That  piteous  looks  to  Phrygian  shepherds  lent: 
His  face,  though  full  of  cares,  yet  show'd  content; 
Onward  to  Troy  with  the  blunt  swains  he  goes, 
So  mild  that  Patience  seem'd  to  scorn  his  woes. 

Look,  look,  how  listening  Priam  wets  his  eyes. 
To  see  those  borrow'd  tears  that  Sinon  sheds. 

With  the  first  of  these  quotations  should  be  compared  the 
speech  quoted  in  the  second  act  of  Hamlet,  from  "Aeneas' 
tale  to  Dido;  and  thereabout  of  it  especially,  where  he 
speaks  of  Priam's  slaughter."  These  lines,  Coleridge  said, 
"as  epic  narrative,  are  superb,"  but  it  is  easier  to  believe 
that  the  whole  speech  is  a  burlesque  of  the  somewhat  lurid 


122  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

description  of  Priam's  death  in  the  second  act  of  Marlowe's 
Dido. 

To  the  work  of  Shakespeare's  predecessors  and  con- 
temporaries in  the  drama  Vergil  contributes  his  share  of 
references  and  allusions,  from  the  time  of  that  in  Jacke 
JugeleTy 

I  think  he  be  Dares,  of  whom  Virgil  doth  write, 

That  would  not  let  Entellus  alone, 

But  ever  provoked  and  ever  called  on, 

But  yet  at  the  last  he  took  a  fall, 

And  so  within  a  while  I  trow  I  make  thee  shall, 

to  that  of  such  echoes  as  those  in  the  following  lines  from 
Antonio  and  Mellida: 

Ant.    Both  cried,  "Revenge!"    At  which  my  trembling  joints, 
Iced  quite  over  with  a  frozed  cold  sweat, 
Leap'd  forth  the  sheets.    Three  times  I  grasp'd  at  shades, 
And  thrice,  deluded  by  erroneous  sense, 
I  forc'd  my  thoughts  make  stand. 

Ben  Jonson's  comprehensive  borrowings  from  the  classics 
do  not  fail  to  include  VergiUan  echoes.  The  influence  of 
Vergil  is  evident,  not  only  in  the  Poetastery  with  its  intro- 
duction of  the  poet  in  person  upon  the  stage,  and  its  rather 
rough  translation  of  a  portion  of  the  fourth  book  of  the  Aeneidy 
but  in  his  other  plays  and  masques.  Lady  Haughty,  the 
head  of  the  college  in  The  Silent  Woman,  echoes  a  passage 
of  the  Georgics  when  she  says,  ''The  best  of  our  days  pass 
first,"  and  in  Every  Man  in  His  Humour ,  Wellbred  exclaims, 
"Oh,  Master  Matthew,  that's  a  grace  pecuUar  but  to  a  few, 
Qy^s  aequus  amavit  Jupiter. ''  In  the  Masque  of  Queens 
appears  Fame  "as  Virgil  describes  her,  at  the  full,  her  feet 
on  the  ground,  and  her  head  in  the  clouds,"  and  also 

Swift-foot  Camilla,  Queen  of  Volscia. 


SPENSER  AND  THE  ENGLISH  RENAISSAIS™:      123 


The  Hue  and  Cry  after  Cupid  contains  many  references  to 
Aeneas,  with  whom,  in  point  of  ''piety,  justice,  prudence 
and  all  other  princely  virtues,'^  says  Jonson,  "I  confer  my 
sovereign."  In  the  Speeches  at  Prince  Henry's  Barriers  is 
the  following  line,  with  its  VergiUan  echo: 

As  if  whole  islands  had  broke  loose  and  swam; 

and  in  the  Staple  of  News,  Pennyboy  Junior  describes  the 
effects  of  his  love  in  imagery  borrowed  from  the  eighth 
book  of  the  Aeneid: 

My  passion  was  clear  contrary,  and  doubtful, 
I  shook  for  fear,  and  yet  I  danced  for  joy, 
I  had  such  motions  as  the  sunbeams  make 
Against  a  wall,  or  playing  on  a  water, 
Or  trembling  vapour  of  a  boiling  pot.^ 

In  his  Palladis  Tamia,  Francis  Meres  wrote,  "As  Homer 
and  Virgil  among  the  Greeks  and  Latines  are  the  chief  Hero- 
icke  Poets:  so  Spencer  and  Warner  be  our  chiefe  heroicall 
Makers."  But  Warner  and  Drayton  and  Daniel,  who  are 
more  nearly  classical  in  the  form  of  their  epics,  although  as 
far  as  chronology  goes  they  belong  with  Spenser,  may  be 
more  profitably  considered  in  the  next  chapter,  in  connection 
with  the  classical  epic  of  Milton. 

"  Cf.  Am.  8.  22-25. 


CHAPTER  VI 
MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC 

It  is  as  difficult  to  define  the  influence  of  Vergil  on  the 
seventeenth  century  as  a  whole,  as  it  is  to  classify  the  literary 
activity  of  the  century  in  general.  It  was  a  period  of 
political  unrest  and  upheaval  and  readjustment,  and  of 
literary  decadence  and  development,  a  period  of  transition 
from  the  freedom  of  the  *' spacious  days"  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
to  the  restrictions  of  the  pseudo-classical  school.  The 
early  part  of  the  century  saw  not  only  the  continuation  of 
Elizabethan  traditions,  in  which  the  romantic  license  and 
extravagance  were  carried  to  excess,  but  also  the  classical 
reaction  of  Ben  Jonson,  with  his  formulation  of  the  "rules" 
for  dramatic  and  epic  poetry,  and  the  beginning  of  the 
classic  school  in  meter  and  diction  under  Waller. 

But  amid  these  shifting  sands,  there  was  one  bit  of  solid 
ground  in  which  every  man  of  letters  had  fastened  an  anchor, 
small  or  great,  —  the  knowledge  of  the  classics.  No  matter 
what  his  views  might  be  on  the  subject  of  form,  each  man 
had  been  trained  in  the  reading  of  the  classics,  and  was 
probably  a  facile  performer  in  exercises  in  Latin  verse  and 
prose.  The  granmaar  schools  of  the  period  aimed  .to  give 
each  boy  a  thorough  education  in  that  ancient  tongue  before 
he  reached  the  university,  and  to  put  him  through  a  course 
of  discipline  which  was  intended  to  produce  an  accom- 
plished writer  of  letters,  themes,  verses  and  orations  in  the 
language  of  Cicero  and  Vergil.  The  mechanical  apparatus 
for  such  a  complete  and  thorough  training  was  easily  avail- 
able, for  grammars,  lexicons  and  texts  had  multiplied  during 

124 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  125 

the  sixteenth  and  early  seventeenth  centuries,  and  much 
good  critical  work  had  been  done  abroad.  Some  of  the 
greatest  names  in  classical  scholarship  belong  to  this  period, 
and  in  Holland  especially  was  gathered  a  group  of  scholars 
such  as  Vossius,  and  Daniel  and  Nikolaas  Heinsius,  whose 
reputation  and  influence  were  international,  and  who  were 
in  touch  with  John  Selden  and  other  English  scholars. 

The  emphasis  in  the  classical  training  of  this  century  was 
placed  on  the  practical  use  of  Latin  in  writing,  for  it  was 
still  the  language  of  learned  men  everywhere,  and  the  only 
tongue  sure  to  be  universally  understood.  Scientific  prose, 
like  that  of  Bacon  and  Harvey  and  even  of  Newton,  as  late 
as  1687,  was  written  in  Latin,  although  in  some  cases,  as 
in  that  of  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  there  was  an  English 
version  as  well.  The  Latin  verse  of  men  like  Milton  and 
Cowley  was  by  no  means  a  mere  academic  exercise,  but  a 
mode  of  expression  universally  acceptable  and  intelUgible. 
It  is  significant  of  the  general  familiarity  with  Latin  that 
Kynaston  translated  Chaucer's  Troilus  and  Cressida  into 
Latin,  that  it  might  have  an  international  circulation. 

With  this  dexterity  in  the  use  of  Latin,  and  the  system 
of  translation  and  re-translation  in  the  class-room  by  which 
the  result  was  secured,  there  was  no  possibility  of  ignorance 
of  the  masterpieces  of  Roman  literature.  And  the  work 
of  Vergil,  who  was  called  *' incomparable"  by  Ben  Jonson, 
the  classicist,  and  was  placed  far  above  his  Greek  masters 
by  Phineas  Fletcher,  the  writer  of  moral  allegory  after 
the  pattern  of  Spenser,  and  was  imitated  in  his  Praise  of 
Spring  by  Richard  Crashaw,  the  prince  of  the  contrivers  of 
conceits,  could  not  fail  to  leave  its  mark  on  all  the  literature 
of  the  period,  in  one  form  oi;  another.  It  was  a  period  when 
even  a  band  of  idle  young  gallants  knew  their  Vergil  well 
enough  to  adopt  the  name  of  the  **Tityre-tu's." 

Naturally  his  influence  on  the  lyric  poets  was  compara- 


126  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

tively  slight.  Jonson  and  Herrick  were  indebted  rather  to 
Horace  and  Catullus  and  Anacreon  for  form  and  subject- 
matter,  although  their  early  practice  in  Vergilian  hexam- 
eters may  well  have  helped  to  give  artistic  polish  to  their 
verses,  and  they  had  assimilated  much  Vergilian  lore  that 
showed  itself  in  incidental  allusion  and  reference.  It  is 
easy  to  find  examples  of  this,  such  as  Herrick's  phrases, 
"Cynthius,  pluck  ye  by  the  ear,"  or  *'a  wood  of  darts,*' 
or  Jonson's  references  to  the  voyage  of  Aeneas  in  his  Epi- 
gram On  the  Famous  Voyage,  and  The  Voyage  Itself,  in 
which  the  adventure  is  concluded 

Sans  help  of  Sibyl,  or  a  golden  bough. 

Or  there  is  more  elaborate  imitation,  as  in  the  poem  of 
Crashaw  mentioned  above,  or  William  Drmnmond  of  Haw- 
thornden's  River  of  Forth  Feasting,  which  is  full  of  echoes 
of  the  tone  of  the  Pollio,  as  in  the  lines  beginning. 

Let  Mother  Earth  now  deck'd  with  flowers  be  seen. 
And  sweet-breath'd  zephyrs  curl  the  meadows  green, 
Let  heaven  weep  rubies  in  a  crimson  shower, 

and  of  the  fifth  Eclogue  in 

To  virgins,  flowers;  to  sunburnt  earth,  the  rain; 
To  mariners,  fair  winds  amidst  the  main; 
Cool  shades  to  pilgrims,  whom  hot  glances  bum. 
Are  not  so  pleasing  as  thy  blest  return. 

And  Cowley,  whose  Mistress  belongs  with  the  other  examples 
of  the  early  seventeenth  century  love  of  conceits,  and  who 
chose  for  the  motto  of  that  volume,  haeret  lateri  lethalis 
arundo,  says  in  his  poem  Sleep, 

Let  her  but  grant,  and  then  will  I 
Thee  and  thy  Kinsman  Death  defy, 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  127 

and  in  The  Heart  Fled  Again ^  devotes  a  stanza  to  the  story 
of  Dido: 

Even  so  the  gentle  Tyrian  Dame, 

When  neither  Grief  nor  Love  prevail, 
Saw  the  dear  object  of  her  flame, 
Th'  ingrateful  Trojan  hoist  his  sail: 
Aloud  she  call'd  to  him  to  stay; 
The  wind  bore  him,  and  her  lost  words  away. 

The  continuation  of  the  pastoral  tradition  through  the 
early  portion  of  the  century  has  already  been  spoken 
of,  and  Milton's  part  in  it  has  been  discussed.^  It 
would  be  natural,  in  a  man  of  Milton's  comprehensive 
learning  and  thorough  scholarship  to  find  the  poet  who 
would  set  the  standard  for  the  imitation  of  Vergil.  And 
in  a  sense  he  did,  but  it  was  a  standard  too  far  above  and 
too  far  apart  from  the  capabilities  of  the  other  minds  of  the 
period.  As  in  his  Ode  on  the  Nativity^  he  showed  himself 
touched  by  the  contemporary  fondness  for  conceits,  but 
used  them  in  a  way  that  raised  this  juvenile  poem  far  above 
those  by  any  of  his  fellow-concettists,  so  in  his  use  of  the 
conventional  pastoral  elegy  he  struck  a  lyric  note  of  which 
none  of  his  predecessors  had  given  even  a  hint.  And  his 
place  at  the  culmination  of  the  development  of  the  classical 
epic  is  one  at  such  heights  above  his  nearest  competitor, 
that  there  is  no  comparison  in  the  matter  of  actual  achieve- 
ment between  them.  Thus  he  reflected  three  of  the  most 
important  tendencies  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  he 
was  in  no  sense  typical  of  them.  His  "soul  was  like  a  star 
and  dwelt  apart." 

The  early  work  of  Milton,  except  for  his  Lyddas,  shows 
little  Vergilian  influence.  His  Latin  poetry  is  clearly 
0 vidian  in  style  rather  than  Vergilian,  and  he  several  times 

1  Chapter  V* 


128  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

definitely  expresses  his  preference  for  the  later  poet.  In 
his  first  Elegy f  writing  of  his  own  "exile/^  he  voices  the  wish 
that  Ovid  had  never  suffered  worse  exile  than  he,  in  which 
case, 

Non  tunc  Ionic  qnicquam  cessisset  Homero, 
Neve  foret  victo  laus  tibi  prima,  Maro. 

Yet  he  naturally  has  a  few  Vergilian  echoes  in  his  Latin,  as 
for  example  in  this  same  Elegy,  in  the  sentence,  ''Quid  sit 
amor  nescit,"  and  in  the  list  of  dreadful  figures  that  sit  in 
the  cave  of  Murder  and  Treachery  and  the  description  of 
Rumor  in  the  verses  In  Quintum  Novemhris. 

On  the  whole,  Milton's  classicism  is  of  a  Greek  nature 
rather  than  a  Latin.  The  classical  allusions  in  his  minor 
poems  are  generally  of  Hellenic  origin,  and  his  prose  shows 
a  decided  preference  for  the  Greek.  The  Georgics  is  the 
only  poem  of  VergiPs  that  is  recommended  in  his  treatise  On 
Education^  although  it  is  not  credible  that  the  Aeneid  would 
have  had  no  place  in  his  ideal  system  of  education.  But 
when  we  come  to  his  great  epic,  the  influence  of  the  Aeneid 
is  traceable  as  well  as  that  of  the  Iliad.  Before  we 
consider  in  detail  the  Vergilian  elements  in  Paradise  Lost, 
however,  we  must  go  back  nearly  a  century  and  examine 
the  earher  epics  and  their  relations  to  classical  structure. 

The  desire  to  write  an  epic  poem  had  been  strong  among 
the  Elizabethans.  As  we  have  already  seen,  Spenser  evi- 
dently had  the  feeling  that  he  was  doing  for  England  what 
Vergil  had  done  for  Rome.  The  figure  of  Arthur  was  un- 
doubtedly looked  upon  somewhat  in  the  same  light  in 
relation  to  the  history  of  Britain  as  the  figure  of  Aeneas 
in  connection  with  the  legendary  founding  and  the  develop- 
ment of  Rome.  The  fact  that  he  was  essentially  a  romantic 
figure  did  not  deter  the  poets  from  Spenser  to  Blackmore 
from  using  or  thinking  of  using  him  as  the  central  hero 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  129 

of  an  epic  which  was  professedly  based  on  classic  models 
in  some  respects  at  least.  He  had  surpassed  Brutus  in 
epic  interest.  Ben  Jonson  is  reported  to  have  said  that 
"for  a  Heroik  poeme,  .  .  .  ther  was  no  such  ground  as  King 
Arthur's  fiction." 

The  historic  interest  had  great  vitality  in  the  sixteenth 
century.  It  is  shown  in  the  large  number  of  historical  plays 
that  were  produced  on  the  Elizabethan  stage,  and  also  in 
the  subjects  chosen  by  the  epic  poets  of  the  last  part  of 
that  century  and  the  first  part  of  the  next.  These  "saurians 
in  English  literature,"  as  Lowell  called  them,  were  answer- 
ing a  real  demand  on  the  part  of  their  readers  in  giving  them 
"epic  poems"  which  would  satisfy  their  desire  to  know 
more  of  their  country's  story  and  gratify  their  national 
pride.  The  enthusiasm  which  followed  the  defeat  of  the 
Spanish  Armada  perpetuated  itself  not  only  on  the  stage 
but  in  the  productions  of  the  printing-houses.  The  chron- 
icles of  Holinshed  and  Hall  furnished  the  necessary  informa- 
tion, and  were  popular  as  sources  for  plays  and  poems.  The 
later  historical  work  of  Camden,  Stow,  and  Sir  Robert  Cotton 
responded  to  the  same  conditions  as  the  poems  of  Warner, 
Daniel  and  Drayton. 

f  William  Warner's  Albion* s  England  was  the  first  of  the 
"saurians."  Meres  classes  him  with  Spenser  as  one  of 
the  chief  heroic  poets  of  the  English,  comparing  him  with 
Vergil,  but  there  is  little  of  the  classical  epic  about  this 
"continued  historie  of  the  same  kingdome,  from  the  originals 
of  the  first  inhabitants  thereof,"  beginning  with  Noah  and 
the  Flood,  except  the  fact  that  it  is  in  twelve  books.  It  is 
interesting,  however,  that  the  account  of  Aeneas'  treason 
and  banishment  from  Troy  and  his  arrival  in  Italy,  finds  its 
place  in  due  time  in  Warner's  leisurely  narrative,  at  the 
end  of  the  second  book.  But  appended  to  the  poem  is 
"An  Addition  in  Proese  to  the  Second  Booke  of  Albion's 


130  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

England:  Contayning  a  Breuiate  of  the  true  Historie  of 
Aeneas.'*  He  does  not  mention  Vergil's  name,  but  gives 
a  fairly  full  abstract  of  the  Aeneid,  omitting  the  sixth  book 
entirely  and  expressing  his  belief  that  the  story  of  Juno's 
causing  the  storm  is  ''a  poeticall  fiction."  There  are  some 
curious  turns  in  the  narrative,  and  he  mentions  Boccaccio's 
version  of  Dido's  death  and  gives  an  account  of  Aeneas' 
descendants. 

Samuel  Daniel's  History  of  the  Civil  Wars  is  the  next  in 
point  of  time.  His  model,  however,  is  definitely  the  Phar- 
saliaj  and  although  his 

What  fury,  O  what  madness  held  thee  so, 
Dear  England, 

goes  back  ultimately  to  the  convention  of  Vergil's 
Musa,  mihi  causas  memora,  quo  numine  laeso, 

it  evidently  depends  directly  on  Lucan's 

Quis  furor,  o  cives,  quae  tanta  Hcentia  ferri 
Gentibus  invisis  Latium  praebere  cruorem! 

There  was  an  evident  pretense  at  epic  structure,  but  the 
poem  is  guiltless  of  anything  approaching  epic  unity. 

A  large  portion  of  the  work  of  Michael  Drayton  was 
patriotic  in  purpose.  His  legends  drawn  from  the  chronicles 
and  his  England's  Heroicall  Epistles  point  to  his  interest  in 
his  country's  story,  even  though  they  have  no  importance 
in  an  historical  way.  The  Barons'  Wars,  completed  and 
published  in  1603,  was  a  revision  of  a  poem  published  in 
1596  under  the  title  of  Mortimeriados,  a  name  which  indi- 
cates the  epic  pretensions  of  the  poem.  It  begins  with  the 
proposal  of  the  subject  and  the  somewhat  Vergilian  lines, 

Me  from  the  soft  lays  and  tender  loves  doth  bring. 
Of  dreadful  fights  and  horrid  wars  to  sing, 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  131 

although  the  reminiscence  of  Spenser's  introductory  stanzas 
is  perhaps  stronger  than  that  of  Vergil.  The  figure  of  Mis- 
chief instilhng  poison  into  the  various  characters  of  the 
story  is  doubtless  due  to  a  memory  of  Vergil's  picture  of 
Alecto  as  she  visits  first  Amata,  then  Turnus,  and  finally 
the  Trojans,  and  inspires  them  all  with  the  impulses  which 
lead  to  the  conflict  between  the  Trojans  and  the  Latins. 
But  again  there  is  no  epic  structure,  in  spite  of  the  promise 
of  it  in  the  proposal  of  the  subject  and  the  invocation  which 
begin  the  poem.  The  Poly-Olbion,  eighteen  cantos  of  which 
appeared  in  1612  and  the  remaining  twelve  in  1622,  makes 
no  pretense  at  being  epic  in  form.  It  is  '*  A  Chorographical 
description  of  all  the  Tracts,  Rivers,  Mountains,  Forests, 
and  other  Parts  of  the  Renowned  Isle  of  Great  Britain,  with 
Intermixture  of  the  most  Remarkable  Stories,  Antiquities, 
Wonders,  Rarities,  Pleasures,  and  Commodities  of  the 
same."  It  is  a  true  ''saurian"  with  nearly  fifteen  thousand 
vertebrae  in  its  backbone,  a  ''strange  Herculean  task,"  as 
its  own  author  called  it.  Its  chief  interest  to  us  is  in  its 
patriotic  purpose  and  in  its  telling  of  the  story  of  Aeneas 
as  an  introduction  to  the  story  of  Brute,  in  a  form  which 
is  dependent  on  Vergil,  and  not  on  the  mediaeval  Dares 
story.  In  this  respect  it  shows  an  advance  over  Warner, 
who  relegated  Vergil  to  an  appendix. 

To  these  earlier  writers  of  the  heroic  poem  it  would  not  be 
necessary  to  give  so  much  space,  if  it  were  not  true  that 
they  were  the  forerunners  of  the  classical  epic  of  Cowley  and 
Milton,  and  that  each  one  of  them  showed  in  one  way  or 
another  that  Vergil  was  in  his  mind,  even  though  he  did 
not  imitate  the  form  of  the  Aeneid.  They  represent,  how- 
ever, a  kind  of  poetry  that  was  slightly  to  one  side  of  the 
main  trend  of  the  early  seventeenth  century.  They  were 
all  comparatively  unimportant,  and  the  prominent  poets 
of  that  time  confined  themselves  largely  to  short   poems, 


132  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POE'^gte' 

lyrical,  pastoral,  or  satirical.  But  about  the  middle  of  the 
century  there  came  a  change,  and  many  long  sustained 
narrative  poems  were  produced  by  the  leading  writers. 
Even  the  satires,  like  Dryden's  Absalom  and  Achitophel,  were 
cast  in  the  form  of  a  story.  How  much  of  this  was  due  to 
the  critical  discussion,  both  in  France  and  England,  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  "heroic  poem,"  it  would  be  difficult 
to  say.  But  doubtless  the  poets  were  eager  to  try  their 
hand  at  working  out  the  current  theories.  In  France  the. 
epic  had  an  even  greater  popularity  than  in  England  for  a 
few  years  after  1650.  "En  15  ans,"  says  Lanson,  "  six 
grandes  6pop^s  paraissent,  qui  forment  im  total  de  136 
chants,  et  dont  quelques-unes  ont  eu  assez  longtemps  le 
renom  de  chefs-d'oeuvre.  Je  n'en  parlerai  pas,"  he  con- 
tinues, "ce  sont  les  parties  mortes  et  bien  mortes  de  la 
litterature  classiques."  The  names  of  these,  Saint  LouiSj 
AlariCf  La  Pucelle,  Clovis,  Charlemagne,  and  Childebrandef 
indicate  an  interest  in  history,  but  Biblical  subjects  were 
also  used,  as  in  Saint- Amant's  Moyse  sauvS,  Godeau's  Saint 
Paul,  and  Coras'  Jonas,  Josue,  Samson,  and  David. 

After  the  '^saurians"  the  epic  in  England  branched  out 
in  two  different  directions.  The  historic  background  no 
longer  attracted  the  epic  poet.  Milton  dallied  with  the 
thought  of  an  epic  on  the  Arthurian  story,  but  that  was  in 
his  youth,  before  the  historical  fervor  had  abated.  The 
two  types  of  Uterature  which  affected  the  further  develop- 
ment of  the  epic  were  the  rather  inharmonious  ones  of  the 
French  sentimental  romance  and  the  Biblical  stories. 

The  two  chief  examples  of  the  first  of  these  classes  are  the 
Gondibert  of  Davenant  and  the  Pharonnida  of  Chamberlayne. 
The  former,  of  which  less  than  half  was  completed,  is  pref- 
aced by  a  long  letter  to  Hobbes,  and  also  a  reply  from  that 
philosopher,  containing  much  praise  of  the  new  poem, 
including  the  statement  that  "it  would  last  as  long  as  the 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  133 

Iliad  or  the  Aeneid.''  But  it  is  evident  that  with  the  drama 
and  the  French  romances  as  models  in  form  and  subject- 
matter,  the  result  was  necessarily  far  from  a  classical  epic, 
and  Vergil  had  no  influence  on  either  style  or  material. 
The  same  thing  is  true  of  Pharonnida,  which  was  published 
in  1659,  an  excellent  example  of  discursiveness  and  all 
that  is  not  classical  in  structure. 

But  side  by  side  with  the  love  of  the  French  romances 
which  was  characteristic  of  a  large  portion  of  the  reading 
public  of  the  seventeenth  century,  was  the  Puritan  interest 
in  the  Bible.  The  translation  of  the  Bible  into  English  under 
James  I,  and  the  emphasis  placed  by  the  Puritans  on  the 
authority  of  Holy  Writ,  had  nearly  made  of  the  EngUsh 
a  "people  of  one  book.'*  Decided  stress  in  education  in 
both  Latin  and  Greek  was  placed  on  patristic  learning,  and 
the  Church  Fathers  were  quoted  nearly  as  frequently  as 
the  classics.  All  this  naturally  reacted  upon  the  poetry 
of  the  century,  and  Biblical  stories  furnished  good  subjects, 
for  epics,  which,  unlike  the  romantic  heroic  poems,  werej 
classical  in  form.  ,  ; 

Sir  William  Alexander  began  a  poem,  Jonathan:  an 
Heroicke  Poeme  Intended,  but  did  not  write  more  than  the 
first  book.  Giles  Fletcher's  Christ's  Victorie  and  his  brother's 
Locusts,  or  Apollyonists  are  of  interest  to  us  because  of  their 
influence  on  Milton.  Milton's  best-known  English  predeces- 
sor in  the  religious  epic  was  Abraham  Cowley,  who  was  also 
the  most  Vergilian  of  all  the  epic  poets.  His  prose  as  well 
as  his  poetry  shows  his  admiration  of  Vergil,  "whose  Foot- 
steps," he  says  in  one  place,  "I  adore."  Constant  allusion 
and  quotation,  often  inaccurate,  give  evidence  of  his  familiar 
knowledge  of  this  "best  poet."  In  his  poem  on  the  Motto 
to  the  Miscellanies,  tentanda  via  est,  he  say«, 

Come  my  best  Friends,  my  Books,  and  lead  me  on, 


134  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

and  after  a  welcome  to  the  **  great  Stagirite"  and  to  "leam'd 
Cicero/'  he  cries, 

Welcome  the  Mantuan  Swan,  Virgil  the  Wise, 
Whose  verse  walks  highest  but  not  flies. 

Who  brought  green  Poesie  to  her  perfect  Age; 
And  made  that  Art  which  was  a  Rage. 

And  in  his  Ode:  Upon  the  occasion  of  a  Copy  of  Verses  of  my 
Lord  Broghill,  he  definitely  expresses,  although  in  a  humorous 
way,  his  reverence  for  Vergil  above  all  other  poets: 

Then  in  a  rage  I  took 

And  out  at  window  threw 
Ovid  and  Horace,  all  the  chiming  crew. 

Homer  himself  went  with  them  too. 
Hardly  escap'd  the  sacred  Mantuan  Book. 

Four  books,  all  that  were  ever  finished,  of  his  Davideis,  a 
Sacred  Poem  of  the  Troubles  of  David,  were  published  in  1656, 
in  a  voliune  containing  also  the  Miscellanies,  the  Mistress 
and  the  Pindariqiie  Odes,  In  the  Preface  to  the  volume,  he 
writes  thus  of  the  Davideis:  "I  come  now  to  the  last  Part, 
which  is  Davideis,  or  an  Heroical  Poem  of  the  Troubles  of 
David;  which  I  designed  into  Twelve  Books;  not  for  the 
Tribes  sake,  but  after  the  Pattern  of  our  Master  Virgil; 
and  intended  to  close  all  with  that  most  Poetical  and  excel- 
lent Elegie  of  Davids  on  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan: 
For  I  had  no  mind  to  carry  him  quite  on  to  his  Anointing 
at  Hebron,  because  it  is  the  custom  of  Heroick  Poets  (as 
we  see  by  the  examples  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  whom  we 
should  do  ill  to  forsake  to  imitate  others)  never  to  come 
to  the  full  end  of  their  Story,  but  onely  so  near,  that  every 
one  may  see  it."  In  the  same  Preface  he  explains  carefully 
the  superior  advantages  of  sacred  subjects  over  profane 
ones.     "Amongst  all  holy  and   consecrated  things  which 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  135 

the  Devil  ever  stole  and  alienated  from  the  service  of  the 
Deity,  .  .  .  there  is  none  that  he  so  universally,  and  so 
long  usurpt,  as  Poetry.  It  is  time  to  recover  it  out  of  the 
Tyrants  hands,  and  to  restore  it  to  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
who  is  the  Father  of  it."  In  ancient  times,  ''those  mad 
stories  of  the  Gods  and  Heroes"  served  the  purpose  of  a 
religious  stimulus  to  the  people,  for  ''there  was  no  other 
Religion,  and  therefore  that  was  better  than  none  at  all." 
But  for  the  Christian,  "Does  not  the  passage  of  Moses  and 
the  Israelites  into  the  Holy  Land,  yield  incomparably  more 
Poetical  variety,  then  the  voyages  of  Ulysses  or  Aeneas?" 
And  so  he  continues  through  several  more  comparisons, 
finally  concluding,  "All  the  Books  of  the  Bible  are  either 
already  most  admirable,  and  exalted  pieces  of  Poesie,  or 
are  the  best  Materials  in  the  world  for  it." 

The  poem  itself  gives  Cowley  an  opportunity  to  display 
a  vast  amount  of  Biblical  knowledge,  and  the  Notes  permit 
him  to  supplement  this  and  also  to  add  much  classical  lore 
as  well.  He  is  quite  frank  in  his  Notes  about  admitting 
his  debts  to  Homer  and  Vergil,  especially  the  latter,  but 
indeed  they  are  sufficiently  obvious  without  his  mention 
of  them.  The  poem  opens  in  conventional  fashion,  and  here 
as  elsewhere  the  model  is  evidently  Vergil  rather  than 
Homer: 

I  sing  the  Man  who  Judahs  Scepter  bore 
In  that  right  hand  which  held  the  Crook  before.  .  .  . 
Much  danger  first,  much  toil  did  he  sustain, 
Whilst  Saul  and  Hell  crost  his  strong  fate  in  vain. 

This  is  followed  by  an  invocation  and  prayer  for  divine- 
guidance,  which  occasions  the  following  note:  "The  custom 
of  beginning  all  Poems,  with  a  Proposition  of  the  whole 
work,  and  an  Invocation  of  some  God  for  his  assistance 
to  go  through  with  it,  is  so  solemnly  and  religiously  ob- 


136  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

served  by  all  the  ancient  Poets,  that  though  I  could  have 
found  out  a  better  way,  I  should  not  (I  think)  have  ven- 
tured upon  it.  .  .  .  The  Grecians  built  this  Portal  with 
less  state,  and  made  but  one  part  of  these  Two;  in  which, 
and  almost  all  things  else,  I  prefer  the  judgment  of  the 
Latins."  Thus  he  is  constantly  appealing  to  the  authority 
of  the  classical  epics  to  justify  his  practice,  as  in  the  use  of 
a  second  Invocation,  the  image  employed  to  describe  the 
swiftness  and  Ughtness  of  Asahel,  and  the  catalogue  of  the 
companions  of  David,  in  the  last  of  which  he  thinks  that  he 
has  surpassed  the  ancients  inasmuch  as  they,  especially 
Homer,  are  too  detailed  and  diffuse.  He  also  invokes 
Vergil's  authority  for  the  use  of  half -lines,  saying,  "Though 
none  of  the  English  Poets,  nor  indeed  of  the  ancient  Latin, 
have  imitated  Virgil  in  leaving  sometimes  half-verses  (where 
the  sense  seems  to  invite  a  man  to  that  liberty)  yet  his  author- 
ity alone  is  sufficient,  especially  in  a  thing  that  looks  so 
naturally  and  gracefully;  and  I  am  far  from  their  opinion, 
who  think  that  Virgil  himself  intended  to  have  filled  up 
those  broken  Hemistiques." 

The  story  of  David's  youthful  adventures  offers  many  op- 
portunities for  parallels  with  those  of  Aeneas,  and  Cowley 
takes  full  advantage  of  them.  David's  vision  of  the  future 
history  of  his  race  is  evidently  reminiscent  of  the  sixth 
book  of  the  Aeneid,  and  his  welcome  at  the  court  of  Moab 
is  like  that  of  Aeneas  at  Carthage.     Like  Dido,  Moab  says. 

Swift  Fame,  when  her  round  journey  she  does  make, 
Scorns  not  sometimes  Us  in  her  way  to  take. 
Are  you  the  man,  did  that  huge  Gyant  kill?  * 

By  Moab  David  is  entertained  with  a  feast,  where  he  sees 

the  story  of  Lot  pictured  in  tapestries,  and  where,  after  the 

»  a.  Aen.  1.  567-8, 617. 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  137 

goblet  is  passed  around,  Melchor,  like  lopas,  sings  a  lay  in 
which 

His  noble  verse  through  Natures  secrets  lead, 

and  Joab  tells  the  king  the  story  of  David's  early  life.  Thus 
Cowley  manages  to  introduce  the  conventional  *' episode," 
after  the  same  manner  as  Aeneas'  narrative  at  Dido's  ban- 
quet, and  continues  it  in  David's  recounting  of  further  events 
in  his  own  and  Saul's  past  history  on  the  next  day  when 
they  go  to  hunt.  So  it  is  obvious  that  not  only  in  single 
lines,  such  as 

And  with  proud  prancings  beat  the  pikrid  ground, 

which  Cowley  tells  us  is  "in  emulation  of  the  Virgilian  Verse, 
Quadrupedante  putrem  sonitu  quatit  ungula  campum,"  ' 

but  in  the  general  structure  of  the  poem  and  the  episodes 
and  descriptions  in  it,  Cowley  is  taking  Vergil  as  his  model. 
Denham  expressed  the  contemporary  recognition  of  his 
indebtedness  to  the  classics : 

Horace's  wit,  and  Virgil's  state. 

He  did  not  steal,  but  emulate! 

And  when  he  would  like  them  appear. 

Their  garb,  but  not  their  clothes  did  wear. 

Cowley's  Davideis  was  praised  by  Rymer,  who  had  weighed 
Gondibert  in  the  Aristotelian  balance  and  found  it  wanting. 
And  so  when  Addison  came  to  criticize  Paradise  Lost*  he 
applied  the  test  which  had  been  used  for  the  epic  since  the 
critics  of  the  Renaissance  had  formulated  the  rules  of  Aristo- 

3  Aen.  8.  596. 

*  The  Spectator,  Nos.  267,  273,  279,  285,  291,  297,  303,  309,  315, 
321,  327, 333,  339,  345,  351,  357,  363, 369. 


138  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

tie  and  Horace.  "I  shall  examine  it,"  he  said,  "by  the  rules 
of  epic  poetry,  and  see  whether  it  falls  short  of  the  Iliad  or 
Aeneid  in  the  beauties  which  are  essential  to  that  kind  of 
writing."  He  finds,  upon  investigation,  that  it  fulfills  the 
requirements  that  the  "fable"  be  "one,  great,  and  entire." 
The  unity  it  secures  as  do  its  great  predecessors,  by  plunging 
into  the  midst  of  things,  as  Milton  himself  says  in  the  Argu- 
ment to  the  first  book.  It  is  complete  in  all  its  parts,  hav- 
ing beginning,  middle  and  end.  And  it  is  great,  even  in 
details,  greater  than  the  Iliad  or  the  Aeneid.  He  then 
considers  in  the  prescribed  manner  the  characters,  the 
sentiments,  and  the  language,  and  concludes,  that  while 
there  are  defects  in  the  poem,  as  in  the  actions  of  Sin 
and  Death  and  the  picture  of  the  Limbo  of  Vanity,  which 
seem  more  like  Spenser  and  Ariosto  than  Homer  and  Vergil, 
still  on  the  whole  it  measures  up  to  the  classical  standards. 
All  this  seems  rather  futile  criticism  to  the  modern  lover  of 
Paradise  Lost,  but  these  were  the  serious  standards  of  that 
time  by  which  a  poem  must  stand  or  fall.  And  obviously 
Milton  was  guided  by  these  classic  principles,  although  one 
never  feels  that  they  were  shackling  his  genius. 

In  considering  the  influence  of  the  classics  on  Milton, 
this  conventional  epic  structure  must  be  taken  into  account. 
But  there  arises  at  once  the  question  whether  the  main 
influence  is  that  of  Homer  or  Vergil.  The  fact  that  Milton 
was  a  lover  of  the  Greeks  rather  than  of  the  Romans  might 
lead  to  the  conclusion  that  the  father  of  epic  poetry  was 
chiefly  responsible;  and  the  proposal  of  the  subject  and 
invocation  and  prayer  for  divine  guidance  and  illumination, 
the  narration  of  things  past  by  means  of  the  conversation 
between  Raphael  and  Adam,  the  vision  of  the  heroes  de- 
scendants, the  epic  combats  and  the  epic  similes,  are  not 
exclusively  Vergilian,  except  perhaps  Uxe  -Aosi^^^^QMbhe 
future,  which  is  reminiscent  of  Aeneas'  conversation  with 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  139 

Ms„father  inj^he  Undem  But  it  must  be  remembered 

that  for  various  reasons  Vergil's  Aeneid  furnished  the  best 
model  for  the  classical  epic.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  far 
better  known  than  were  the  Homeric  poems.  The  English- 
man of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  was  trained 
in  a  Roman  rather  than  a  Greek  atmosphere,  and  was 
able  to  read  and  appreciate  the  Aeneid  more  fully  than 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  In  the  second  place,  the  greater 
artificiality  of  the  Latin  poem  from  the  point  of  view  of 
mere  form,  gave  it  a  higher  position  as  a  model.  It  was 
easier  to  apply  the  ''rules"  to  the  Aeneid  than  to  the  Iliad. 
Its  greater  brevity  undoubtedly  made  it  more  usable  as  a 
pattern,  and  the  generally  recognized  fact  that  Vergil  had 
comprehended  within  the  limits  of  a  single  poem  the  plots 
of  both  the  Homeric  epics,  commended  his  work  to  those 
pseudo-classic  apostles  of  the  concise.  The  Aeneid  was  the 
most  perfect  and  most  concentrated  example  of  epic  tech- 
nique, and  consequently  critics  and  poets  united  in  praising 
it  and  utilizing  it.  Hence  it  may  be  assumed  that  Milton 
was  no  exception,  and  that  while  the  Homeric  poems  with- 
out doubt  were  in  his  mind  as  he  planned  Paradise  Lost, 
and  assuredly  furnished  a  large  number  of  images  and  sug- 
gestions for  certain  passages,  it  is  certain  that  Milton  de- 
pended chiefly  on  the  Aeneid  as  the  model  for  the  structure 
of  his  epic. 

But  as  Addison  said,  "1  must  here  take  notice  that  Milton 
is  everywhere  full  of  hints,  and  sometimes  literal  trans- 
lations taken  from  the  greatest  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  poets." 
And  Vergil  furnishes  his  share.  The  very  first  words  that 
Satan  speaks  to  Beelzebub  in  Hell, 

/   If  thou  beest  he  —  but  Oh  how  fallen!  how  changed  \   > 

i    From  him!  I  ' 

(P.  L.  1.  84-5)  ^ 


\ 


140  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

/ 

recall  the  words  of  Aeneas  when  he  was  telling  of  the  ap- 
parition of  Hector  on  the  last  night  of  Troy: 

I  [    ei  mihi,  qualis  erat,  quantum  mutatus  ab  illo 

1  \    Hectore  qui  redit  exuvias  indutus  Achilli. 

I  (Aen.  2.  274-5) 

The  catalogue  of  the  fallen  angels  is  more  like  that  of  the 
N  warriors  in  the  seventh  Aeneid  than  like  that  of  the  ships 
in  the  second  book  of  the  Iliad,  and  the  description  of  the 
building  of  Pandemonium  certainly  owes  something  to  the 
account  of  the  building  of  Carthage  in  the  general  spirit  of 
the  passage.^  And  there  soon  follows,  though  not  directly 
in  connection  with  the  building  of  the  palace,  Vergil's  favorite 
picture  of  the  bees  : 

-  As  bees 
In  spring-time,  when  the  Sun  with  Taurus  rides, 
Pour  forth  their  populous  youth  about  the  hive 
In  clusters;  they  among  fresh  dews  and  flowers 
Fly  to  and  fro,  or  on  the  smoothed  plank. 
The  suburb  of  their  straw-built  citadel. 
New  rubbed  with  balm,  expatiate,  and  confer 
Their  state-affairs. 

(P.  L.  1.  768-775) « 

Vergil's  account  of  the  occupations  of  the  heroes  in  the 
Elysian  Fields  was  certainly  the  model  for  Milton's  descrip- 
tion of  the  sports  indulged  in  by  the  fallen  angels.  To 
quote  only  a  few  lines  from  each,  Milton's 

Part  on  the  plain,  or  in  the  air  sublime, 
Upon  the  wing  or  in  swift  race  contend. 
As  at  the  Oljonpian  games  or  Pythian  fields; 

»  Cf.  P.  L.  1.  376-521  and  Aen.  7.  641-817,  P.  L.  1.  670-730  and 
Aen.  1.  421-9. 

•  Cf.  Aen.  1. 430-^  and  Georg.  4. 149-169. 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  141 

Part  curb  their  fiery  steeds,  or  shun  the  goal 

With  rapid  wheels,  or  fronted  brigads  form.  ... 

.  .  .  Others,  more  mild, 

Retreated  in  a  silent  valley,  sing 

With  notes  angelical  to  many  a  harp 

Their  own  heroic  deed,  and  hapless  fall 

By  doom  of  battle, 

(P.  L.  2.  52S-532,  546-550) 
is  much  like  Vergil's 

pars  in  gramineis  exercent  membra  palaestris, 
contendunt  ludo  et  fulva  luctantur  harena; 
pars  pedibus  plaudunt  choreas  et  carmina  dicunt. 
.  .  .  quae  gratia  currum 
armorumque  fuit  vivis,  quae  cura  nitentis 
pascere  equos,  eadem  sequitur  tellure  repostos. 
conspicit,  ecce,  alios  dextra  laevaque  per  herbam 
vescentis  laetumque  choro  paeana  canentis 
inter  odoratum  lauri  nemus,  unde  supeme 
plurimus  Eridani  per  silvam  volvitur  anmis. 
(Aen.  6.  642-4,  653-9) 

Addison  said  that  the  description  of  the  actions  of  Sin 
seemed  more  akin  to  the  romances  of  Spenser  and  Ariosto 
than  to  the  epics  of  Homer  and  Vergil,  but  the  appearance  of 
Sin  is  certainly  a  classical  picture.     She  who 

seemed  woman  to  the  waist,  and  fair, 
But  ended  foul  in  many  a  scaly  fold, 
.  .  .  About  her  middle  round, 
A  cry  of  Hell-hoimds  never-ceasing  barked, 
(P.  L.  2.  650-1,  653-4) 

is  surely  Vergil's  Scylla,  whom  he  describes  in  almost  these 
very  words: 

prima  hominis  facies  et  pulchro  pectore  virgo 
pube  tenus,  postrema  immani  corpore  pistrix 
delphinum  caudas  utero  commissa  luporum. 

{Aen.  3.  426-8  and  cf.  1.  432.) 


142  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

The  descent  of  Raphael  was  evidently  described  with 
the  account  of  the  flight  of  Mercury  in  mind,  as  Milton's 
words,  "Like  Maia's  son  he  stood,"  would  indicate.^  Like 
Aeneas  at  the  beginning  of  his  narrative  of  the  fall  of  Troy, 
Raphael  complies  with  Adam's  request  with  the  prefatory 
remark, 

High  matter  thou  injoin'st  me,  0  prime  of  Men  — 
Sad  task  and  hard, 

(P.  L.  5.  563-4)  * 

and  like  Aeneas,  Satan  passes  through  the  midst  of  his  hosts 
invisible,  and  finally  emerges  "as  from  a  cloud."  * 

Beside  these  passages  which  are  like  Vergil  not  only  in 
expression  but  in  context,  there  are  many  lines  and  phrases 
that  are  clearly  Vergilian.     Such,  for  example,  are  the  lines, 

Then,  much  revolving,  thus  in  sighs  began, 

which  at  once  recalls  the  famiUar  plurima  volvens,  and 

Tells  the  suggested  cause,  and  casts  between 
Ambiguous  words, 

Sinon's  voces  ambiguas.     The 

passage  broad, 
Smooth,  easy,  inoffensive,  down  to  Hell, 

enshrines  the  well-known  facilis  descensus  Averni,  and,  si 
parva  licet  componere  magnisy^^  the  words  of  the  Messiah  to 
his  Father, 

'  Cf .  Aen.  1. 300-301,  4. 253-8  and  P.  L.  5.  266-277. 

•  Cf.  Aen.  2.  3. 

•  Cf.  Aen.  L  411-414, 516-518, 579-581,  586-8,  and  P.  L.  10.  441-452. 
"  Milton  copies  this  line  from  Gecrg.  4.  176  four  times,  P.  L.  2. 

921-2,  6.  310-11,  10.  306,  P.  R.  4.  563-4.  It  is  also  used  by  Cowley, 
Dryden,  Pope  and  Tickell. 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  143 

Father  Eternal,  thine  is  to  decree; 

Mine  both  in  Heaven  and  Earth  to  do  thy  will 

Supreme, 

(P.  L.  10.  68-70) 

are  like  those  of  Aeolus  to  Juno, 

tuus,  o  regina,  quid  optes 
explorare  labor;  mihi  iussa  capessere  fas  est. 

{Am.  1.  76-77) 

Examples  might  be  multiplied  almost  indefinitely,  but  these 
are  sufiicient  to  show  how  strongly  Vergil  affected  Milton's 
phraseology. 

Paradise  Regained,  which  is  constructed  rather  on  the 
"brief  model"  of  Job  than  the  ''diffuse"  model  of  the  classics, 
shows  little  Vergilian  influence.  Its  first  line  resembles  the 
discarded  first  line  of  the  Aeneid: 

I,  who  erewhile  the  happy  Garden  sung 
By  one  man's  disobedience  lost,  now  sing 
Recovered  Paradise  to  all  mankind. 

(P.  R.  1.  1-3) 

There  is  a  repetition  of  the  favorite  clause, 

to  compare 
Great  things  with  small, 

(P.  R.  4.  563-4) 
and  the  lines, 

nor  slept   the   winds 
Within  their  stony  caves,  but  rushed  abroad 
From  the  four  hinges  of  the  world,  and  fell 
Oji  the  vexed  wilderness,  whose  tallest  pines. 
Though  rooted  deep  as  high,  and  sturdiest  oaks. 
Bowed  their  stiff  necks, 

(P.  i2.  4.  413-418) 


144  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

combine  Vergil's  description  of  the  storm,  when  una  Eurus- 
que  Notusque  ruunt,  and  of  the  oak  to  which  Aeneas  is  com- 
pared when  assailed  by  Anna's  pleas,  which 

quantum  vertice  ad  auras 
aetherias,  tantum  radice  in  Tartara  tendit. 

(Aen.  4.  445-6) 

It  would  be  a  satisfaction  if  there  were  any  possibility  of 
establishing  a  definite  relationship  between  the  hexameters 
of  Vergil  and  the  blank  verse  of  Milton.  Addison  said, 
"Milton  has  copied  after  Homer  rather  than  Virgil  in  the 
length  of  his  periods,  the  copiousness  of  his  phrases,  and  the 
running  of  his  verses  into  one  another."  But  Tennyson, 
perhaps  a  more  sympathetic  critic  though  hardly  a  greater 
admirer  of  both  poets,  English  and  Latin,  spoke  more  than 
once  of  the  similarities  between  their  poems  in  sound  and 
movement.  Surely  if  any  one  could  appreciate  the  stately 
harmonies  of  Vergil's  verse,  it  was  this 

God-gifted  organ-voice  of  England, 

and  we  know  that  their  methods  of  workmanship  were  much 
the  same,  a  method  of  laborious  polishing  of  each  line  until 
it  reached  the  perfection  which  is  characteristic  of  the  finished 
work  of  both  poets.  No  one  is  so  like  Vergil  in  this  partic- 
ular as  Milton,  except  perhaps  Pope,  and  while  Milton's 
own  genius  is  a  sufficient  explanation,  it  is  pleasant  to  think, 
with  Tennyson,  that  it  is  partly  because  he  had  studied 
Vergil's  verse. 

But  while  Milton  is  so  largely  indebted  to  the  classical 
poets  for  diction  and  form,  he  is  quite  in  agreement  with 
Cowley  in  thinking  that  the  ancient  pagan  stories,  and 
indeed  the  tales  of  chivalry  as  well,  are  inferior  to  those 
of  the  Bible  as  subjects  for  epic  poetry.     This  behef  he 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  145 

expresses  in  unmistakable  words  at  the  beginning  of  the 
ninth  book  of  Paradise  Lost: 

I  now  must  change 
These  notes  to  tragic  —  foul  distrust,  and  breach 
Disloyal,  on  the  part  of  man,  revolt 
And  disobedience;  on  the  part  of  Heaven, 
Now  aUenated,  distance  and  distaste, 
Anger  and  just  rebuke,  and  judgment  given. 
.  .  .  Sad  task!  yet  argument 
Not  less  but  more  heroic  than  the  wrath 
Of  stem  Achilles  on  his  foe  pursued 
Thrice  fugitive  about  Troy  wall;  or  rage 
Of  Turnus  for  Lavinia  disespoused; 
Or  Neptune's  ire,  or  Juno's  that  so  long 
Perplexed  the  Greek,  and  Cytherea's  son. 

(P.  L.  9.  5-10,  13-19) 

Paradise  Lost  stands  as  an  example  of  a  poem  in  which 
supreme  genius  has  triumphed  over  the  restrictions  imposed 
by  the  conventions  of  the  classical  epic.  Where  genius 
was  lacking,  however,  the  result  of  an  endeavor  to  write 
after  the  pattern  of  Vergil  and  Homer  was  a  sad  failure. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  four  epics  of  Sir  Richard  Blackmore, 
a  better  physician,  apparently,  than  he  was  a  poet.  In 
these  he  returned  to  subjects  drawn  from  English  history  or 
legend,  and  called  his  four  poems  Prince  Arthur,  King 
Arthur,  Eliza,  and  Alfred.  They  are  most  carefully  worked 
out  along  the  recognized  epic  lines,  with  Vergil  as  the 
model  rather  than  Homer.  But  in  spite  of  this  conscientious- 
ness in  complying  with  the  rules,  they  called  forth  a  storm 
of  criticism,  although  Prince  Arthur  was  well  liked  by  the 
class  of  readers  who  were  not  troubled  by  the  relation  of 
the  author  to  the  classics.  "Of  his  four  epic  poems," 
wrote  Johnson,  ''the  jfirst  had  such  reputation  and  popularity 
as  enraged  the  critics;  the  second  was  at  least  known  enough 


146  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

to  be  ridiculed ;  the  two  last  had  neither  friends  nor  enemies.'* 
John  Dennis  was  one  of  the  critics  who  were  enraged  by  the 
success  of  Prince  Arthur,  and  he  wrote  a  book  of  more  than 
two  hundred  pages  to  prove  that  Blackmore  had  not  suc- 
ceeded, and  that  he  had  not  shown  the  "judgment"  of  his 
model,  Vergil. 

Another  form  of  verse  in  the  seventeenth  century,  which 
pointed  forward  to  the  time  of  Pope  and  his  followers,  is 
the  mock-epic  or  burlesque,  of  which  the  chief  example  is 
Butler's  Hudibras.  This  poem  has  various  imitations  of 
Vergil,  notably  the  parody  of  the  description  of  Fame: 

There  is  a  tall  long-sided  dame, 

(But  wondrous  light)  ycleped  Fame, 

That  like  a  thin  cameleon  boards 

Herself  on  air,  and  eats  her  words; 

Upon  her  shoulders  wings  she  wears 

Like  hanging  sleeves,  lined  through  with  ears, 

And  eyes,  and  tongues,  as  poets  list. 

Made  good  by  deep  mythologist: 

With  these  she  through  the  welkin  flies. 

And  sometimes  carries  truth,  oft  lies.  .  .  . 

This  tattling  gossip  knew  too  well 

What  mischief  Hudibras  befell; 

And  straight  the  spiteful  tidings  bears 

Of  all,  to  th'  unkind  Widow's  ears. 

(Part  II,  Canto  1)  " 

And  if,  as  has  been  said,  Scarron's  Virgile  Travesti  was  the 
model  for  Butler's  style,  it  undoubtedly  furnished  the  sug- 
gestion for  such  passages  as  this.  About  the  same  time  that 
the  first  and  second  parts  of  Hudibras  were  published, 
Charles  Cotton  issued  his  burlesques  of  the  first  and  fourth 
books  of  the  Aeneid,  certainly  under  the  stimulus  of  Scarron's 
work.  They  were  printed  together  in  1670  under  the  title 
"  Cf.  Aen.  4.  17^-197. 


MILTON  AND  THE  CLASSICAL  EPIC  147 

of  Scarronides,  or  Virgil  Travesiie,  and  this  book  went 
through  fourteen  editions  by  1807,  and  stimulated  the 
production  of  other  burlesques  of  a  similar  nature,  such  as 
Maronides  and  Cataplus  and  the  Irish  Hudibras,  and  the 
History  of  the  Famous  Love  between  a  Fair  Noble  Parisian 
Lady  and  a  Beautiful  Young  Singing-Man.  All  these 
were  definite  parodies  of  portions  of  the  Aeneid,  and  they 
undoubtedly  inspired  much  of  the  imitation  of  Vergil  in 
the  mock-epics  of  the  next  century. 


CHAPTER  VII 
DRYDEN  AND  POPE 

When  Pope,  in  his  Temple  of  Fame,  imitated  Chaucer^s 
H(ms  of  Fame,  he,  Hke  his  master,  placed  the  poets  of  antiq- 
uity on  pillars.  His  Vergil,  however,  was  standing  not  upon 
a  pillar  "of  tinned  iron  cleere"  but  on  a  golden  column, 

On  which  a  shrine  of  purest  gold  was  rear'd; 
Finished  the  whole,  and  labour'd  every  part, 
With  patient  touches  of  unwearied  art: 
The  Mantuan  there  in  sober  triumph  sate, 
Composed  his  posture  and  his  looks  sedate; 
On  Homer  still  he  fixed  a  rev'rent  eye, 
Great  without  pride,  in  modest  majesty. 
In  living  sculpture  on  the  sides  were  spread 
The  Latian  wars,  and  haughty  Tumus  dead; 
Ehza  stretched  upon  the  fun'ral  pyre, 
Aeneas  bending  with  his  aged  sire: 
Troy  flamed  in  burning  gold,  and  o'er  the  throne 
"Arms  and  the  man"  in  golden  ciphers  shone. 

The  first  few  lines  of  this  passage  explain  in  part  the  attrac- 
tion which  Vergil  had  for  Pope,  and  emphasize  the  phase 
of  his  genius  which  commanded  especial  admiration  in  the 
age  of  Dry  den  and  Pope.  It  was  the  "patient  touches  of 
unwearied  art"  which  admitted  him  to  Pope's  Temple  of 
Fame. 

At  no  previous  time  had  the  appreciation  of  Vergil  rested 
so  largely  upon  an  admiration  of  his  style.  The  pseudo- 
classic  ideals  of  restraint  and  regularity  were  satisfied  by 

148 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  149 

the  perfect  finish  of  Vergil's  hexameters,  and  his  admirers 
were  fain  to  follow  the  precepts  of  Horace  and  the  example  of 

Old  Virgil  who  would  write  ten  Hnes,  they  say, 
At  dawn,  and  lavish  all  the  golden  day 
To  make  them  wealthier  in  his  readers'  eyes. 

The  Renaissance  advocacy  of  imitation  of  the  ancients  was 
revived  with  a  new  significance,  or  rather  a  new  emphasis. 
Form  and  style  were  the  gods  which  the  English  Augustans 
served,  and  those  gods  took  on  the  semblance  of  Horace  in 
the  satire,  the  epistle,  and  the  verse  essay,  and  of  Vergil  in 
the  pastoral,  the  didactic  poem,  and  the  mock-epic.  Of 
serious  epic  there  was  comparatively  little,  and  that  little 
was  based  rather  on  Homer  than  on  Vergil,  although  of 
course  it  was  impossible  for  Glover  and  Wilkie  to  avoid  some 
echoes  of  Vergil.  Indeed,  the  former  was  said  to  have 
shown  ** Virgil's  sober  rage."  Wilkie,  whose  Epigoniad 
did  not  appear  until  1757,  twenty  years  after  Glover's 
Leonidas,  was  beginning  to  come  under  the  influence  of  the 
growing  preference  for  Greek,  and  the  reaction  from  the 
admiration  for  the  imitative  art  of  Vergil. 

The  age  was  essentially  Latin  in  its  culture.  The  superior 
"fire"  and  "invention"  of  Homer  might  arouse  admiration 
in  the  minds  of  some  critics  of  Vergil,  but  it  was  a  cold  sort 
of  flame  when  translated  into  heroic  couplets,  and  the 
compensating  merits  of  the  Roman  poet  in  judgment  and 
moral  purpose  found  plenty  of  defenders.  The  Latin  char- 
acter of  the  classical  culture  of  the  period  is  shown,  not  only 
in  the  general  Roman  polish  of  the  literature,  but  in  the 
great  preponderance  of  Latin  quotations  in  the  prose,  and 
the  far  more  general  use  of  the  Latin  authors  for  mottoes 
in  the  periodixjals,  pamphlets,  and  volumes  and  collections 
of  poems.  Horace  was  the  greatest  favorite  for  mottoes, 
as  is  natural  in  view  of  the  greater  quotability  of  the  Odes 


160  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

and  also  of  the  sententiousness  of  many  of  the  lines  in  the 
Satires  and  Epistles  which  lend  themselves  to  citation. 
But  Vergil  was  not  far  behind  in  popularity.  Of  the  mottoes 
in  the  Spectator^  for  instance,  one  hundred  and  thirty-nine 
are  from  Vergil,  two  hundred  and  thirty-nine  from  Horace, 
and  five  hundred  and  fifty-six  from  all  other  authors,  includ- 
ing only  a  very  few  from  the  Greek. 

Indeed,  Vergil  was  a  part  of  the  air  that  the  man  of  letters 
breathed  in  the  pseudo-classic  period,  and  it  was  practically 
impossible  at  that  time  for  a  poet  or  prose  writer  to  avoid 
quotations  and  echoes  of  his  poems,  or  allusions  to  the 
tale  of  Aeneas'  adventures.  Dean  Swift,  who  could  hardly 
be  thought  of  as  possessing  a  nature  sympathetic  with  that 
of  Vergil,  uses  him  constantly.  There  is  scarcely  a  poet  whom 
some  admirer  does  not  call  the  Vergil  of  his  age,  scarcely  a  ver- 
sifier who  does  not  refer  many  times  to  the  story  of  Aeneas, 
scarcely  a  traveler  who  does  not  visit  Vergil's  tomb  and  recall 
in  verse  or  prose  his  emotions  on  the  occasion  of  this  sacred 
pilgrimage  or  his  memories  of  the  poet's  works  at  Rome  and 
other  places  associated  with  his  name,  scarcely  a  prose 
critic  who  does  not  use  his  lines  again  and  again  for  illus- 
tration or  adornment.  Also  there  is  scarcely  a  poet  who 
does  not  try  his  hand  at  translating  at  least  an  Eclogue 
or  a  portion  of  a  book  of  the  Georgics  or  the  Aeneid,  and  Addi- 
son, who  himself  had  made  versions  of  a  part  of  the  fourth 
Georgia  and  the  story  of  Achaemenides,  praises  Dry  den's 
Virgil  in  words  which  are  an  eloquent  commentary  on  the 
literary  and  educational  standards  of  the  time.  "The 
illiterate  among  our  countrymen,"  he  says,  "may  learn  to 
judge  from  Dry  den's  Virgil  of  the  most  perfect  epic  per- 
formance." ^ 

The  age  of  classicism  was  a  period  in  which  translation  was 
cultivated  as  one  of  the  chief  forms  of  poetry.  During  the 
1  The  Freeholder,  No.  40. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  151 

seventeenth  century  there  had  come  a  change  in  the  theory 
of  translation  from  Ben  Jonson's  advocacy  of  the  Uteral 
version.  While  Chapman  and  Harington  had  urged  a  free 
translation,  with  an  effort  to  reproduce  the  spirit  rather  than 
the  letter,  the  translators  of  Vergil  had  before  this  time  been 
fairly  faithful.  Gavin  Douglas  had  prided  himself  upon 
following  Vergil  as  closely  as  he  could,  and  Surrey  and 
Phaer  had  both  clung  quite  closely  to  the  original.  But  in 
1656,  Sir  John  Denham  pubHshed  a  translation  of  a  portion  U-^'^ 
of  the  second  book  of  the  Aeneid,  which  he  had  written 
twenty  years  before,  together  with  a  brief  essay  expressing 
his  ideas  of  what  a  translation  should  be.  ''I  conceive  it 
to  be  a  vulgar  error,"  he  said,  "in  translating  poets,  to 
affect  being  a  fidus  interpres.  .  .  .  Poesie  is  of  so  subtle  a 
spirit,  that  in  pouring  out  of  one  language  into  another,  it 
will  all  evaporate;  and  if  a  new  spirit  be  not  added  in  the 
transfusion,  there  will  remain  nothing  but  a  caput  mortuum. 
.  .  .  And  therefore  if  Virgil  must  needs  speak  English, 
it  were  fit  he  should  speak  not  only  as  a  man  of  this  Nation, 
but  as  a  man  of  this  Age."  This  new  kind  of  translation, 
with  its  effort  to  walk  beside  an  author  instead  of  at  his 
heels,  was  believed  in  and  practised  by  Denham  and  Waller 
and  a  host  of  smaller  poets  of  the  new  classical  school, 
including  the  well-known  names  of  Sir  William  Temple, 
Joseph  Addison,  the  Earl  of  Roscommon,  and  Sir  Charles 
Sedley.  The  first  few  lines  of  Denham's  Passion  of  Dido  for 
Aeneas,  with  their  un-Vergilian  pun,  will  illustrate  the  free- 
dom with  which  these  translators  treated  their  original. 

Having  at  large  declared  Jove's  embassy, 
Cyllenius  from  Aeneas  straight  doth  fly; 
He  loth  to  disobey  the  god's  command, 
Nor  willing  to  forsake  this  pleasant  land, 
Asham'd  the  kind  Eliza  to  deceive, 
But  more  afraid  to  take  a  solemn  leave, 


152  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

He  many  ways  his  labouring  thoughts  revolves. 
But  fear  o'ercoming  shame,  at  last  resolves 
(Instructed  by  the  god  of  thieves)  to  steal 
Himself  away,  and  his  escape  conceal.' 

All  of  these  men,  however,  attempted  to  render  only  a  por- 
tion of  the  works  of  Vergil  into  English,  some  confining 
themselves  to  a  part  of  a  single  book  of  the  Georgics  or  the 
Aeneid.  Many  of  them  produced  poems  more  rightly  named 
paraphrases  than  translations.  Two  versions  of  the  entire 
works  of  Vergil  had  been  made  before  that  of  Dryden, 
that  of  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale  and  that  of  John  Ogilby, 
which  was  published  first  in  1649,  and  underwent  various 
revisions  and  appeared  in  many  editions.  It  was  "adorned 
with  Sculptures"  which,  I  fear,  are  the  most  interesting 
parts  of  the  book. 

But  the  hand  of  genius  was  laid  to  the  task  of  trans- 
lating Vergil  in  the  last  decade  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  whatever  may  be  our  opinion  of  Dryden's  Virgil  as  a 
translation,  we  must  admit  that  it  is  a  splendid  example 
of  the  possibilities  of  the  heroic  couplet.  "Lay  by  Virgil," 
he  wrote  in  the  Dedication  of  his  Aeneid,  "...  when  you 
take  my  version,"  and  it  is  thus  separately  that  it  must 
be  judged.  "The  way  I  have  taken,"  he  said,  "is  not  so 
straight  as  metaphrase,  nor  so  loose  as  paraphrase;  some 
things  too  I  have  omitted,  and  sometimes  have  added  of 
my  own.  ...  I  have  endeavored  to  make  Virgil  speak  such 
English  as  he  would  himself  have  spoken,  if  he  had  been 
bom  in  England,  and  in  this  present  age." 

The  critical  dedications  and  prefaces  to  the  various 
portions  of  the  translation  are  important  not  only  in  being 
examples  of  the  first  modern  prose,  but  also  as  expressing 
Dryden 's   theories   of   translation,   which   are   summarized 

«  Aen.  4.  276-286,  and  of.  11.  331-9. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  153 

in  the  quotation  just  given,  and  his  estimate  of  Vergil. 
Of  the  Pastorals  he  had  a  high  opinion,  although  he  recog- 
nized that  they  were  the  work  of  a  young  man,  and  he  thought 
that  in  the  fourth,  sixth,  and  eighth  Eclogues  Vergil  at- 
tained ''a  pitch  as  lofty  as  ever  he  was  able  to  reach  after- 
wards." 

In  the  Dedication  of  the  Aeneid,  he  comes  to  the  defense 
of  Vergil  against  his  detractors,  who  were  many  in  those 
days  of  controversy  not  only  over  the  relative  merits  of 
the  ancients  and  moderns,  but  also  over  the  superiority  of 
Homer  or  Vergil.  The  French  generally  remained  loyal 
to  Vergil,  and  Voltaire,  in  the  Appendix  to  his  Henriade, 
said,  ''Hom^re  a  fait  Virgile,  dit-on;  si  cela  est,  c'est  sans 
doute  son  plus  bel  ouvrage."  Dry  den  takes  up  the  cudgels 
for  Vergil  and  argues  against  the  criticisms  of  his  "moral, 
the  duration  or  length  of  time  taken  up  in  the  action  of  the 
poem,  and  what  they  have  to  urge  against  the  manners 
of  his  hero."  He  finds  in  the  Aeneid  both  a  political  and 
a  moral  purpose,  and  in  its  hero  the  pattern  of  a  perfect 
prince.  Hence  he  is  necessarily  pious,  for  perfection  begins 
and  ends  in  piety,  but  he  is  also  courageous  "in  an  heroicall 
degree."  So  he  continues,  taking  up  one  by  one  the  familiar 
attacks  upon  the  poem  and  its  chief  character.  When  he 
comes  to  the  defense  of  Aeneas  against  the  charge  of  infidelity 
to  Dido,  he  gives  a  new  turn  to  the  question  by  claiming  that 
Vergil  was  trying  to  please  the  Romans  by  disgracing  the 
founder  of  the  race  of  their  enemy,  Carthage,  for  "he  shows 
her  ungrateful  to  the  memory  of  her  first  husband."  Could 
the  romancers  of  the  Middle  Ages  have  heard  this,  their 
hair  would  doubtless  have  stood  on  end  with  horror  at  such 
heresy! 

In  common  with  other  critics  of  his  time,  Dryden  thought 
that  the  Georgics  were  Vergil's  finest  work,  "the  best  poem 
of  the  best  poet,"  as  he  called  them.     The  perfection  and 


154  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

finish  of  the  versification  of  this  poem  naturally  appealed 
to  the  writers  of  the  classic  school.  **  Virgil  wrote  his 
Georgics/'  continues  Dry  den,  *'in  the  full  strength  and  vigor 
of  his  age,  when  his  judgment  was  at  the  height,  and  before 
his  fancy  was  declining." 

Dryden  wrote  his  translation  in  great  haste,  and  had  to 
call  upon  some  of  his  friends  to  aid  him  in  completing  his 
task.  Addison  and  Chetwood  furnished  the  Prefaces  to 
the  Georgics  and  the  Eclogues,  and  also  the  Life  of  Virgil 
and  the  arguments  for  the  different  books.  Dryden  ac- 
knowledges the  assistance  he  got  from  them,  and  also  the 
aid  which  he  received  from  the  Earl  of  Lauderdale's  transla- 
tion of  the  Aeneid,  which  he  had  seen  in  manuscript.  It 
was  not  published,  however,  until  after  the  death  of  its 
author  and  after  the  appearance  of  Dryden's  version,  when 
the  same  nobleman's  translations  of  the  Eclogues  and  Georgics 
were  combined  with  that  of  the  Aeneid.  As  their  editor 
claims,  they  are  much  closer  to  the  Latin  than  Dryden's 
rendering,  but  they  are  not  such  good  poetry. 

Dryden  had  no  false  modesty  in  regard  to  his  work.  *'I 
have  endeavored,"  he  says,  ''to  follow  the  example  of  my 
master,  and  am  the  first  Englishman,  perhaps,  who  made 
it  his  design  to  copy  him  in  his  numbers,  his  choice  of  words, 
and  his  placing  them  for  the  sweetness  of  the  sound."  He 
goes  on  to  speak  of  those  of  his  countrymen  who  have 
translated  episodes  and  other  portions  of  Vergil's  work  with 
great  success,  naming  Roscommon,  Denham,  Waller,  and 
Cowley,  as  well  as  the  Earl  of  Mulgrave,  to  whom  the  transla- 
tion of  the  Aeneid  is  dedicated.  "But  it  is  one  thing,"  he 
continues,  "to  take  pains  on  a  fragment,  and  translate  it 
perfectly;  and  another  thing  to  have  the  weight  of  a  whole 
author  on  my  shoulders.  They  who  believe  the  burden  light, 
let  them  attempt  the  fourth,  sixth,  or  eighth  Pastoral; 
the  first  or  fourth  Georgic;   and  amongst  the  Aeneids,  the 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  155 

fourth,  the  fifth,  the  seventh,  the  ninth,  the  tenth,  the 
eleventh,  or  the  twelfth:  for  m  these  I  think  I  have  suc- 
ceeded best."  And  again  in  a  note  on  the  first  GeorgiCy  he 
says,  ''The  poetry  of  this  book  is  more  sublime  than  any 
part  of  Virgil,  if  I  have  any  taste :  and  if  ever  I  have  copied 
his  majestic  style,  it  is  here."  It  is  fair,  therefore,  to  test 
Dryden's  translations  by  passages  from  these  books,  and  see 
whether  he  has  succeeded  or  not. 

Although  Dryden  expressed  himself  as  willing  to  be 
judged  by  his  work  in  the  twelfth  book,  among  others,  he 
also  admits  that  he  found  his  work  growing  more  difficult 
as  he  progressed.  Certainly  his  couplets  at  the  very  end 
of  the  Aeneid  do  not  begin  to  approach  the  grandeur  of 
Vergil's  hexameters.  The  lines  describing  the  fall  of  Turnus 
seem  forced : 

The  hero  measured  first,  with  narrow  view, 
The  destined  mark;  and,  rising  as  he  threw, 
With  its  full  swing  the  fatal  weapon  flew. 
Not  with  less  rage  the  rattling  thunder  falls, 
Or  stones  from  battering  engines  break  the  walls; 
Swift  as  a  whirlwind,  from  an  arm  so  strong, 
The  lance  drove  on,  and  bore  the  death  along. 
Naught  could  his  sevenfold  shield  the  prince  avail, 
Nor  aught  beneath  his  arms  the  coat  of  mail: 
It  pierced  through  all,  and  with  a  grisly  wound 
Transfix'd  his  thigh,  and  doubled  him  to  ground. 
With  groans  the  Latins  rend  the  vaulted  sky: 
Woods,  hills,  and  valleys,  to  the  voice  reply.* 

It  is  also  possible  to  find  in  these  same  books  instances  of 
Dryden's  admitted  elaboration  of  his  original.  It  seems 
an  inevitable  characteristic  of  the  translations  of  this  period, 
and  although  Dryden  and  others  attempt  to  justify  them- 
selves by  asserting  their  intention  to  make  Vergil  speak 
'  Aen.  12.  919-929. 


156  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

as  he  would  in  their  country  and  age,  such  additions  always 
give  the  impression  of  having  been  made  to  suit  the  exigencies 
of  the  rhyme.  In  the  following  lines,  for  instance,  there  is 
no  need  for  all  the  information: 

And  now  she  leads  the  Trojan  chief  along 
The  lofty  walls,  amidst  the  busy  throng; 
Displays  the  Tyrian  wealth  and  rising  town, 
Which  love,  without  his  labor,  makes  his  own. 
This  pomp  she  shows,  to  tempt  her  wand'ring  guest; 
Her  faltring  tongue  forbids  to  speak  the  rest. 

The  three  hnes  in  the  Latin  are  quite  suflGlcient  to  picture 
the  situation,  and  are  far  more  effective: 

nunc  media  Aenean  secum  per  moenia  ducit 
Sidoniasque  ostendat  opes  inbemque  paratam, 
incipit  effari  mediaque  in  voce  resistit.^ 

But  there  are  also  passages  in  these  chosen  books  that 
represent  Dryden's  work  at  its  best.  In  Dido's  first  remon- 
strance with  Aeneas  when  he  plans  to  depart,  the  translator 
has  lifted  his  couplets  to  a  high  level  of  sustained  passion 
and  the  lines  flow  so  smoothly  that  the  couplet  structure 
is  not  sufficiently  obtrusive  to  interfere  with  the  effect  of  the 
unity  of  the  passage : 

See,  whom  you  fly!  am  I  the  foe  you  shun? 

Now,  by  those  holy  vows  so  late  begun. 

By  this  right  hand  (since  I  have  nothing  more 

To  challenge,  but  the  faith  you  gave  before), 

I  beg  you  by  these  tears  too  truly  shed. 

By  the  new  pleasures  of  our  nuptial  bed; 

If  ever  Dido,  when  you  most  were  kind, 

Were  pleasing  in  your  eyes,  or  touch'd  your  mind; 

*  Aen.  4.  74r-76. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  157 

By  these  my  prayers,  if  prayers  may  yet  have  place, 

Pity  the  fortunes  of  a  falling  race! 

For  you  I  have  provoked  a  tyrant's  hate, 

Incens'd  the  Libyan  and  the  Tyrian  state; 

For  you  alone  I  suffer  in  my  fame. 

Bereft  of  honour  and  exposed  to  shame!  * 

And  while  Dryden  never  can  be  Vergil,  his  description  of 
the  storm  in  the  first  Georgic  may  be  compared  without 
hesitation  with  its  original.  If  ever  he  has  copied  his 
majestic  style,  it  is  here: 

Oft  have  I  seen  a  sudden  storm  arise. 
From  all  the  warring  winds  that  sweep  the  skies: 
The  heavy  harvest  from  the  root  is  torn. 
And  whirl'd  aloft  the  Hghter  stubble  borne: 
With  such  a  force  the  flying  rack  is  driven, 
And  such  a  winter  wears  the  face  of  heaven: 
And  oft  whole  sheets  descend  of  sluicy  rain, 
Suck'd  by  the  spongy  clouds  from  off  the  main: 
The  lofty  skies  at  once  come  pouring  down, 
The  promised  crop  and  golden  labours  drown. 
The  dikes  are  filled;  and  with  a  roaring  sound, 
The  rising  rivers  float  the  nether  ground; 
And  rocks  the  bellowing  voice  of  boihng  seas  rebound. 
The  father  of  the  gods  his  glory  shrouds. 
Involved  in  tempests  and  a  night  of  clouds; 
And,  from  the  middle  darkness  flashing  out. 
By  fits  he  deals  his  fiery  bolts  about. 
Earth  feels  the  motions  of  her  angry  god. 
Her  entrails  tremble,  and  her  mountains  nod; 
And  flying  beasts  in  forests  seek  abode : 
Deep  horror  seizes  every  human  breast; 
Their  pride  is  humbled,  and  their  fear  confessed, 
While  he  from  high  his  rolling  thunder  throws, 
And  fires  the  mountains  with  repeated  blows: 
»  Am.  4.  314^323. 


158  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

The  rocks  are  from  their  old  foundations  rent; 
The  winds  redouble,  and  the  rains  augment: 
The  waves  on  heaps  are  dashed  against  the  shore; 
And  now  the  woods,  and  now  the  billows  roar.** 

Dryden's  translation  went  through  a  large  number  of 
editions  during  the  eighteenth  century,  and  its  progress 
was  attended  by  a  crowd  of  satellites,  versions  of  small 
portions  of  Vergil's  works,  following  with  more  or  less  fidelity 
the  work  of  their  model.  Some,  like  Doctor  Trapp,  who 
translated  the  whole  of  Vergil  into  English,  "with  large 
explanatory  notes  and  critical  observations,"  departed  from 
the  straight  road  of  following  Dryden,  and  even  branched 
off  into  blank  verse.  Trapp,  who  had  been  since  childhood 
a  passionate  admirer  of  him  whom  he  called  ''not  only  a 
Poet,  but  a  Philosopher,  and  a  Divine,"  believed  that  it  was 
the  translator's  duty  to  "draw  Virgil  as  like  as  you  can; 
to  think  of  improving  him  is  arrogant;  and  to  flatter  him 
is  impossible."  Therefore  he  criticized  Dryden  for  being 
too  free  in  his  translation,  saying,  "When  you  most  admire 
Mr.  Dryden,  you  see  the  least  of  Virgil." 

In  1753  appeared  the  translation  of  the  Aeneid  by  Christo- 
pher Pitt,  together  with  versions  of  the  Eclogues  and  Georgics 
by  Joseph  Warton,  who  also  served  as  editor  and  wrote 
notes  to  the  whole  and  essays  on  pastoral,  didactic,  and  epic 
poetry.  Although  Warton  criticized  Dryden  very  severely 
for  inaccuracies  and  positive  errors  in  his  translation,  he 
did  not  scruple  to  borrow  from  him  occasionally.  He  says 
in  the  preface  to  the  book,  "Mr.  Pitt  has  borrowed  about 
sixty  lines  from  Mr.  Dryden,  and  I  myself  about  a  dozen," 
although  it  is  safe  to  say,  that  the  diction  of  Warton's  version 
of  the  Eclogues  was  more  influenced  by  the  phraseology  of 
Pope's  Pastorals.    But  Warton  has  not  admitted  that  in 

•  Georg.  1.  31&-334. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  159 

his  discussion  of  epic  poetry  he  has  followed  Dryden's 
Dedication  to  the  Aeneid  almost  word  for  word  for  nearly 
a  page.  The  translation  is  in  heroic  couplet,  with  all  the 
vices,  to  a  modern  reader,  of  that  form  of  verse,  especially 
as  a  vehicle  in  which  to  represent  Vergil's  hexameters.  Yet 
Pitt  has  succeeded  in  giving  a  fairly  stirring  rendering  of 
several  episodes,  such  as  the  fall  of  Troy,  and  at  times 
surpasses  Dryden  in  vigor  and  movement: 

Now  far  within,  the  regal  rooms  disclose. 
Loud  and  more  loud,  a  direful  scene  of  woes; 
The  roof  resounds  with  female  shrieks  and  cries, 
And  the  shrill  echo  strikes  the  distant  skies. 
The  trembling  matrons  fly  from  place  to  place. 
And  kiss  the  pillars  with  a  last  embrace; 
Bold  Pyrrhus  storms  with  all  his  father's  fire; 
The  barriers  burst;  the  vanquish'd  guards  retire; 
The  shatter'd  doors. the  thund'ring  engines  ply; 
The  bolts  leap  back;  the  sounding  hinges  fly; 
The  war  breaks  in;  loud  shouts  the  hostile  train; 
The  gates  are  storm'd;  the  foremost  soldiers  slain: 
Through  the  wide  courts  the  crowding  Argives  roam, 
And  swarm  triumphant  round  the  regal  dome.^ 

There  was  undoubtedly  a  Vergilian  influence  on  the 
prose  of  the  eighteenth  century  as  well  as  upon  the  poetry. 
Addison  himself  may  have  caught  some  of  the  mellowness 
of  the  master's  style,  although  his  Enghsh  is  too  simple  and 
colloquial  to  merit  Young's  description  of  it  as  "a  sweet 
Virgilian  prose."  He  approaches  more  nearly  the  VergiUan 
dignity  in  his  verse,  especially  in  his  Cato.  Of  all  the  eigh- 
teenth century  prose  writers,  Burke  comes  closest  to  the  Ver- 
giUan polish  and  perfection,  and  this  is  perhaps  accounted 
for  by  the  fact  that  he  always  had  a  ''ragged  Delphin  Virgil" 
not  far  from  his  elbow.  He  is  said  to  have  engaged  in  a 
»  Aen.  2.  486-495. 


160  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

dispute  with  Doctor  Johnson  over  the  relative  merits  of 
Homer  and  Vergil,  and  to  have  been  the  advocate  of  the  Latin 
poet.^  Doctor  Johnson  himself,  although  he  preferred 
Homer,  knew  Vergil  well,  and  had  practically  memorized  the 
Eclogices.^ 

Although  the  actual  effect  of  the  style  of  a  poet  upon  a 
prose  writer  is  too  intangible  to  be  analyzed  with  satis- 
factory accuracy,  the  extent  to  which  Vergil  was  in  the 
minds  of  nearly  all  the  writers  of  the  period  is  to  be  seen  not 
only  in  the  number  of  allusions  and  quotations,  but  in  the 
general  tendency  of  the  critical  work  to  hold  up  his  poems  as 
models  to  be  imitated  and  as  standards  by  which  the  achieve- 
ments of  others  might  be  judged.  This  tendency  has  al- 
ready been  spoken  of  in  connection  with  Addison's  papers 
on  Paradise  Lost,  and  John  Dennis'  book  attacking  Black- 
more's  Prince  Arthur. 

This  latter  volume  is  an  excellent  example  of  pseudo- 
classic  criticism,  concerned  with  the  mechanics  of  the  epic 
rather  than  its  poetic  value.  Dennis  discusses  the  same 
questions  that  engaged  the  attention  of  Dryden  in  his 
critical  prefaces.  Dryden,  whose  chief  importance  for  us 
lies  in  his  translation  of  Vergil,  which  has  been  discussed, 
had  intended  to  write  an  epic  poem,  but  he  never  accom- 
plished the  task.  What  his  success  would  have  been,  we  can 
only  conjecture,  but  doubtless  he  would  have  observed  the 
rules  and  at  the  same  time  shown  something  of  the  individual- 
ity which  he  displayed  in  his  criticism,  and  have  surpassed 
the  efforts  of  men  like  Blackmore  and  Glover  and  Wilkie. 
In  1666  he  had  written  his  Annies  Mirahilis,  of  which  he 
said  in  the  prefatory  letter  to  Sir  Robert  Howard,  "I  have 
called  my  poem  historical,  not  epic,  though  both  the  actions 
and  actors  are  as  much  heroic  as  any  poem  can  contain. 

•  See  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  ed.  by  G.  B.  Hill,  vol.  iii,  p.  220. 

•  See  Boswell's  Johnson,  ed.  Hill,  vol.  iv,  p.  252. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  161 

But  since  the  action  is  not  properly  one,  nor  that  accom- 
plished in  the  last  successes,  I  have  judged  it  too  bold  a 
title  for  a  few  stanzas,  which  are  httle  more  in  number 
than  a  single  Iliad  or  the  longest  of  the  Aeneids/*  But 
although  he  will  not  call  the  poem  epic,  Vergil  is  his  model. 
In  the  same  letter,  after  a  discussion  of  the  relative  merits 
of  Ovid  and  Vergil,  Ovid  excelling  in  the  "tender  strokes,'' 
Vergil  in  his  "masterly"  descriptions  of  actions  and  persons, 
he  says,  "Yet  before  I  leave  Virgil,  I  must  own  the  vanity  to 
tell  you,  and  by  you  the  world,  that  he  has  been  my  master 
in  this  poem:  I  have  followed  him  everywhere,  I  know  not 
with  what  success,  but  I  am  sure  with  diligence  enough: 
my  images  are  many  of  them  copied  from  him,  and  the 
rest  are  imitations  of  him.  My  expressions  also  are  as 
near  as  the  idioms  of  the  two  languages  would  admit  of  in 
translation."  To  illustrate  this,  many  a  line  and  stanza 
might  be  quoted.     The  line. 

Beyond  the  year,  and  out  of  Heaven's  high  way, 

for  example,  is  Vergil's  extra  anni  solisque  vias,  and  the 
simile. 

So  glides  some  trodden  serpent  on  the  grass, 
And  long  behind  his  wounded  volume  trails, 

is  an  imitation  of  the  lines  from  the  third  GeorgiCf  describing 
the  wounded  snake, 

cum  medii  nexus  extremaeque  agmina  caudae 
solvuntur,  tardosque  trahit  sinus  ultimus  orbis. 

(11.423-4) 

Probably  the  most  famiUar  passage  of  all  is  the  simile  of 
the  bees,  which  owes  much  to  the  passages  in  the  fourth 
Georgic  and  the  first  Aeneid.^^ 

"  Cf.  Aen.  1.430-6,  and  Georg.  4.149-169. 


162  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

All  hands  employed,  the  royal  work  grows  warm; 

Like  labouring  bees  on  a  long  summer's  day, 
Some  soimd  the  trimipet  for  the  rest  to  swarm, 

And  some  on  bells  of  tasted  lilies  play; 

With  gluey  wax  some  new  foundation  lay 

Of  virgin-combs,  which  from  the  roof  are  hung; 

Some  armed  within  doors  upon  duty  stay 
Or  tend  the  sick  or  educate  the  young. 

In  many  other  places,  not  only  in  the  Annus  MirahiliSy 
but  also  in  his  other  poems.  Dry  den  uses  similarly  close 
imitations  of  Vergil,  borrowing  from  this  ''best  poet,"  as 
he  called  him,  more  frequently  than  from  any  other.  It  is 
the  beginning  of  that  open  and  avowed  imitation  and  adop- 
tion of  passages  from  Vergil  which  is  so  characteristic  of  the 
pastoral  and  didactic  poems  of  the  next  century. 

While  the  influence  of  Vergil  in  this  period  seems  to  be 
in  general  a  thing  of  externals,  in  reality  it  goes  deeper 
than  that,  and  the  surface  imitation  of  the  style  of  the 
Eclogues,  the  form  of  the  Aeneid,  and  the  general  plan  and 
method  of  the  Georgics  is  a  mere  outward  manifestation  of  a 
real  appreciation  of  that  quality  in  which  Vergil  is  supreme 
among  classic  poets,  the  technical  perfection  of  his  work. 
Pope  and  Thomson  and  their  contemporaries  show  little 
trace  of  a  conception  of  the  spirit  of  Vergil,  of  the  sense  of 
pathos  in  his  poetry,  but  this  is  simply  saying  that  they  were 
not  Romanticists,  and  that  therefore  the  subjective  ele- 
ment in  literature  did  not  appeal  to  them. 

It  was  a  very  positive  advantage,  however,  that  these 
neo-classic  critics  and  poets  had,  of  perceiving  and  imitating 
and  praising  that  phase  of  Vergil's  genius  which  has  never 
been  questioned,  but  which  had  never  been  fully  appre- 
ciated before.  They  represented  a  distinct  advance  over 
the  somewhat  childlike  enjoyment  of  the  mere  story  which 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  163 

was  to  be  found  in  Chaucer  and  the  romancers,  and  they 
paved  the  way  for  the  fuller  appreciation  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  which,  while  it  found  beside  the  mere  perfection 
of  style  in  the  work  of  Vergil  a  vivid  imagination  and  a  poetic 
insight  into  human  life,  still  continued  to  emphasize  the 
beauty  of  his  verse  as  the  means  by  which  he  was  enabled 
to  give  his  message  to  the  world. 

Undoubtedly  the  classic  school  found  too  in  the  work  of 
Vergil  a  certain  regularizing  and  standardizing  of  poetic 
forms,  which  they  welcomed  especially  in  their  reaction 
from  the  exaggerations  of  the  Marinists.  He  gave  them 
models  which  they  could  follow  within  the  bounds  of  common 
sense,  and  the  weight  of  his  authority  and  his  example 
added  value  to  their  work  in  their  own  eyes.  Their  poetry 
they  felt  was  no  spasmodic  mushroom  growth,  ruled  by  the 
whims  of  the  individual,  but  had  its  roots  fixed  in  antiquity, 
and  was  Hke  Vergil's  own  oak,  which 

quantum  vertice  ad  auras 
aetherias,  tantum  radice  in  Tartara  tendit. 

The  couplet  as  Pope  used  it  was  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able things  in  the  history  of  English  poetry,  and  it  seems 
quite  evident  that  not  only  did  he  admire  Vergil  for  the 
finish  of  his  lines,  but  he  also  tried  to  approach  the 
same  perfection.  There  is  no  possibility  of  setting  side  by 
side  the  hexameters  of  Vergil  and  the  couplets  of  Pope  and 
saying,  ''The  poUsh  of  these  English  lines  is  in  imitation 
of  these  Latin  verses,"  for  the  nature  of  the  two  meters  is 
too  diverse.  But  each  is  chiseled  out  of  marble,  although 
the  tools  are  different,  and  Pope  undoubtedly  got  his  inspira- 
tion for  the  practice  of  this  art  from  a  study  of  the  methods 
and  results  of  Vergil's  workmanship.  It  is  far  more  probable 
that  this  came  from  the  Latin  than  from  the  Greek,  not 
only  because  Vergil  was  preeminent  in  this  quahty,  but  also 


164  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

because  Pope's  genius,  like  that  of  others  of  his  time,  was 
essentially  Latin.  The  influence  of  Vergil  in  this  respect 
is  hard  to  analyze,  and  any  detailed  consideration  of  it 
must  consist  largely  in  a  citation  of  passages  in  which  Pope 
has  actually  borrowed  the  phraseology  of  his  master.  The 
deeper  significance  of  the  attraction  which  Vergil  exerted 
on  the  English  master  of  form  must  be  felt  rather  than 
seen  and  described. 

The  Eclogues  of  Vergil  Pope  thought  the  "sweetest  poems 
in  the  world,"  and  it  was  this  sweetness  of  versification  that 
he  endeavored  to  imitate,  in  his  Pastorals.  He  felt  that 
he  had  succeeded,  for  even  late  in  life  he  regarded  these 
early  poems  as  the  most  correct  and  musical  of  his  works. 
Many  of  his  contemporaries  agreed  with  him,  one  admirer 
exclaiming. 

Oh  could  thy  Virgil  from  his  orb  look  down, 
He'd  view  a  courser  that  might  match  his  own! 

And  Lord  Lyttleton  fancied  the  shade  of  Vergil  addressing 

Pope  as 

Great  Bard!  whose  numbers  I  myself  inspire, 
To  whom  I  gave  my  own  harmonious  lyre. 

Between  the  ages  of  thirteen  and  fifteen.  Pope  composed 
an  epic  poem,  AlcandeVy  Prince  of  Rhodes,  imitating  the  style 
of  all  the  great  epic  poets.  But  the  poem  suffered  the  fate 
which  Vergil  planned  for  the  Aeneid,  At  sixteen,  however, 
according  to  his  own  statement.  Pope  wrote  his  four  Pastorals, 
named  after  the  four  seasons  of  the  year,  a  scheme  which 
he  borrowed  from  some  of  the  earlier  pastoral  poetry,  and 
which  perhaps  furnished  the  chief  suggestion  to  Thomson 
for  his  arrangement  of  the  Seasons.  They  were  not  published, 
however,  until  1709,  when  Jacob  Tonson  included  them  in 
the  sixth  part  of  the  Poetical  Miscellany,  the  first  volumes 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  165 

of  which  had  been  compiled  by  Dryden.  Undoubtedly 
both  the  poems  themselves  and  the  Discourse  on  Pastoral 
Poetry  which  preceded  them,  miderwent  considerable  revi- 
sion before  they  appeared  in  print.  They  had  circulated, 
however,  among  the  literary  men  of  the  time  in  manuscript, 
and  had  received  high  praise.  Walsh,  in  a  letter  to  Wycher- 
ley,  in  April,  1705,  wrote,  ''It  is  not  flattery  at  all  to  say 
that  Virgil  had  written  nothing  so  good  at  his  Age." 

The  Preface,  or  Discourse  on  Pastoral  Poetry,  which 
Walsh  called  ''very  judicious  and  learned,"  is,  to  the  modern 
reader,  a  collection  of  rather  trite  and  obvious  remarks  gath- 
ered from  Rapin,  Fontenelle,  and  the  Preface  to  Dryden's 
Virgil.  Of  chief  interest  to  us  is  Pope's  statement  at  the 
close  that  whatever  merit  his  own  pastorals  might  possess 
"is  to  be  attributed  to  some  good  old  authors,  whose  works, 
as  I  had  leisure  to  study,  so  I  hope  I  have  not  wanted  care 
to  imitate." 

That  these  good  old  authors  are  Theocritus,  Vergil  and 
Spenser,  is  sufficiently  obvious.  The  opening  lines  of  Spring 
are  in  imitation  of  those  of  Vergil's  sixth  Eclogue,  and  those 
of  the  three  succeeding  Pastorals  follow  closely  the  first  lines 
of  the  pastorals  of  Spenser,  Vergil  and  Theocritus.  There 
is  good  evidence,  however,  that  Vergil  was  more  in  the 
mind  of  Pope  as  he  wrote  these  poems  than  his  English  or 
his  Greek  model.  "The  collection  of  passages  imitated  from 
the  classics,"  Warton  tells  us  in  his  edition  of  Pope's  Works, 
"marked  in  the  margin  with  the  letter  P.  was  made  by  the 
accurate  and  learned  Mr.  Bowyer  the  Printer,  and  given  to 
Pope  at  his  desire,  as  appears  from  the  MSS.  Notes  of  Mr. 
Bowyer  now  before  me."  With  practically  no  exception, 
the  passages  so  marked  are  from  Vergil,  and  careful  search 
will  reveal  more  that  Mr.  Bowyer  failed  to  find  or  Pope  did 
not  care  to  note. 

The  temptation  to  which  all  commentators  are  open, 


166  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

however,  is  to  discover  parallels  where  none  exist.  They 
are  prone  to  go  to  extremes  such  as  moved  Tennyson  to 
complaint  and  Landor  to  ridicule.  The  phraseology  of 
Vergil  was  so  famiUar  to  Pope  that  it  was  inevitable  that 
he  should  echo  it  frequently.  It  is  hardly  safe,  however, 
to  assume  that  when  he  says  "a  secret  transport  touched 
the  conscious  swain,"  he  "had  in  his  eye,"  as  one  of  his 
editors  puts  it,  the  line  from  the  first  book  of  the  Aeneidf 

Latonae  taciturn  pertemptant  gaudia  pectus; 

{Am.  1.  502) 

or  that  because  he  says, 

But  now  the  reeds  shall  hang  on  yonder  tree, 

he  is  thinking  definitely  of  the  verse. 

Hie  arguta  sacra  pendebit  fistula  pinu. 

{Ed.  7.  24) 

But  it  is  perfectly  possible  to  point  out  line  after  line  which 
is  manifestly  written  with  the  words  of  Vergil  in  mind. 
Perhaps  the  diction  of  Dryden's  translation  of  Vergil  had 
some  influence  on  Pope's  phraseology.  But  everyone  who 
has  studied  with  any  degree  of  care  the  various  transla- 
tions of  any  author,  will  readily  admit  the  difficulty  which 
two  men  find  in  discovering  different  words  and  phrases  for 
the  same  passage,  unless  the  translation  be  very  free  and 
far  from  the  original. 

It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  often  the  earlier  version  of 
the  lines  in  Pope's  Pastorals  is  nearer  the  Latin  than  the  later 
form  in  which  they  appeared.  Perhaps  Pope's  maturer 
judgment  advised  him  to  avoid  such  close  imitation.  A 
good  example  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  lines  in  Summer ^ 

Afi  in  the  crystal  spring  I  view  my  face, 
Fresh  rising  blushes  paint  the  watery  glass. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  167 

Originally  these  ran, 

Oft  in  the  crystal  spring  I'd  cast  a  view, 
And  equalled  Hylas  if  the  glass  be  true. 

This  version  makes  far  more  appropriate  the  parallel  to 
which  the  note  marked  "P"  calls  attention: 

nuper  me  in  litore  vidi, 
cum  placidum  ventis  staret  mare,    non  ego  Daphnim 
iudice  te  metuam,  si  numquam  falht  imago. 

(Ed.  2.  25-27) 

Springy  the  first  of  Pope's  Pastorals,  though  it  opens  with 
the  lines  from  the  sixth  Eclogue  of  Vergil,  is  in  its  form  an 
imitation  of  the  third  and  seventh,  especially  the  third. 
Two  shepherds  engage  in  a  contest  in  song,  calling  upon 
another  swain  to  decide  between  them.  Pope's  Strephon 
stakes  a  lamb,  Vergil's  Damoetas,  a  heifer;  in  each  case 
the  opponent  offers  a  bowl  which  is  described  at  length. 
Pope  prided  himself  upon  his  imitation  of  Vergil's  "quis 
fuit  alter?"  in  the  hesitation  of  his  Daphnis  at  the  word 
*' Zodiac."  In  a  speech  copied  straight  from  Vergil,  the 
umpire  tells  the  two  contestants  to  begin  and  "sing  by 
turns."  They  obey,  and  in  alternate  quatrains  which  are 
a  patchwork  of  ideas  and  phrases,  now  from  the  third  Eclogue, 
now  from  the  seventh,  they  recount  the  praises  of  their 
sweethearts.  They  tell  of  the  kind  glances  or  inviting  nods 
which  they  have  received,  of  how  they  have  been  won  to 
agreement  with  the  likes  and  dislikes  of  the  maidens,  and 
of  the  effect  which  the  presence  or  absence  of  the  ''nymphs" 
has  upon  the  face  of  Nature.  The  pastoral  closes  with  the 
putting  of  two  riddles,  and  the  inability  of  the  judge  to 
decide  between  the  two  singers.  All  these  features  may  be 
found  in  Vergil,  in  a  less  artificial  form.  Pope  complains 
that  Vergil  refines  upon  Theocritus  and  is  inferior  to  him  in 


168  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

simplicity  and  propriety  of  style;  but  he  himself  out- 
Vergils  Vergil  in  his  treatment  of  his  original. 

Summer,  the  second  Pastoral,  is  again  a  combination  of 
two  of  Vergil's  Eclogues,  the  second  and  the  tenth.  Some 
hints  for  the  opening  address  to  Dr.  Garth  are  taken  from 
the  dedication  to  PoUio  in  the  eighth  Eclogue,  and  the 
image  of  the  sympathy  of  dumb  Nature  with  the  lover's 
grief  is  found  in  the  first  lines  of  the  same  poem.  But  Uke 
Corydon  and  Gallus,  Alexis  sits  bewailing  his  hopeless  love 
till  the  woods  answer  him.  He  calls  upon  the  Muses,  re- 
proaching them  for  their  absence  in  lines  closely  imitative 
of  that  passage  in  the  Gallus  which  has  been  made  especially 
famous  because  of  Milton's  use  of  it.  Accompanying  his 
song  on  the  flute  which  CoUn  bequeathed  to  him,  as  Damoe- 
tas  had  given  his  to  Corydon,  Alexis  implores  his  love  to 
come  and  share  with  him  the  deUghts  of  the  country,  remind- 
ing her,  as  Gallus  assured  his  Lycoris,  that 

Descending  gods  have  found  Elysium  here. 

He  closes  with  the  complaint  that  the  coolness  of  evening 
brings  him  no  relief  from  the  scorching  fire  of  love,  but  he 
does  not  follow  this  lament  with  the  half -cynical  remonstrance 
of  Corydon  with  himself  for  neglecting  his  pastoral  duties. 
The  original  of  the  third  Pastoral  is  given  in  one  of  the 
notes  marked  "P."  It  ** consists  of  two  parts,  like  the 
VIII th  of  Virgil."  With  full  realization  of  his  dependence 
upon  the  Latin  eclogue.  Pope  calls  upon  the  ''Mantuan 
nymphs"  for  their  aid.  He  sings  of  two  shepherds,  Hylas 
and  Aegon,  of  whom 

This  mourned  a  faithless,  that  an  absent,  Love. 

Hylas,  however,  is  the  first  to  sing,  and  his  lament  closes 
with  a  cry  of  joy,  like  that  of  the  second  singer  in  the  Phar- 
maceutria  of  Vergil, 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  169 

Ye  powers,  what  pleasing  frenzy  soothes  my  mind! 
Do  lovers  dream,  or  is  my  Delia  kind? 
She  comes,  my  Delia  comes!  —  now  cease  my  lay, 
And  cease,  ye  gales,  to  bear  my  sighs  away! 

The  return  of  Delia  is  effected,  however,  without  any  use 
of  enchantment.  Aegon  is  without  hope,  for  his  mistress  is 
faithless,  and  his  ''mournful  lay,"  with  its  bitter  "I  know 
thee,  Love"  (nunc  scio  quid  sit  Amor),  ends  with  a  threat  of 
suicide  hke  that  which  closes  the  first  half  of  Vergil's  poem. 
In  both  parts  of  the  Pastoral  is  a  refrain,  similar  to  those  in 
Vergil.  In  form,  this  Pastoral  follows  more  closely  than 
any  of  the  others  a  single  model,  but  its  diction  shows  less 
Vergilian  influence  than  either  of  the  preceding. 

The  latter  fact  is  true  also  of  the  fourth  Pastoral,  the 
Daphne.  In  general  this  elegy  is  modeled  on  the  fifth  of 
Vergil  which  is  a  lament  for  Daphnis,  put  into  the  mouths 
of  two  shepherds.  Pope  puts  the  whole  song  into  the  lips 
of  Thyrsis,  including  the  reassurance  that  Daphne  still 
lives  and 

wondering  mounts  on  high 
Above  the  clouds,  above  the  starry  sky, 

just  as 

candidus  insuetum  miratur  limen  Ol3Tiipi 
sub  pedibusque  videt  nubes  et  sidera  Daphnis. 

(Ed.  5.  56-57) 

This  was  Pope's  favorite  among  his  Pastorals,  but  it  must  be 
said  that  the  artificiality  of  the  whole  machinery  of  "Nymphs 
and  Sy Ivans"  and  "weeping  loves"  with  their  "golden  darts" 
seems  more  apparent  and  more  offensive  here  than  any- 
where else.  Possibly  it  is  because  we  are  forced  to  com- 
pare it,  not  only  with  the  original  in  the  Latin,  but  with  the 
Lycidas  of  Milton  as  well,  in  which  much  of  the  same  material 
was  used. 


170  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Windsor  Foresty  the  first  part  of  which  was  written  at 
the  same  time  that  the  Pastorals  were,  and  the  second 
part  in  1713,  when  the  entire  poem  was  published,  shows, 
especially  in  the  first  part,  many  characteristics  similar  to 
those  of  the  Pastorals.  There  is  not  so  much  imitation  of 
Vergil  here,  however.  Pope  is  indebted  largely  to  Statins 
and  Ovid  for  suggestions  and  passages.  It  is  interesting 
to  notice  that  he  uses  the  first  line  of  his  Pastorals  as  the 
last  of  Windsor  Forest,  as  Vergil  had  made  the  first  line  of 
his  Eclogues  the  last  of  his  Georgics. 

Unquestionably  the  best  known  of  the  Eclogues  is  the 
Pollio,  the  poem  which  was  partially  responsible  for  Vergil's 
pecuUar  reputation  in  the  Middle  Ages;  and  the  best  known 
of  Pope's  pastoral  poems  is  probably  the  Messiah,  A  Sacred 
Eclogue,  in  Imitation  of  VirgiVs  Pollio.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  discuss  the  identity  of  the  child  of  Vergil's  poem. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  tradition  that  it  referred  to 
the  birth  of  Jesus  persisted  down  to  Pope's  day  and  beyond 
it.  The  general  theory  at  that  time  was  the  one  which 
Augustine  had  advanced,  that  Vergil  himself  was  not  in- 
spired, but  was  adopting  the  ideas  of  a  Sibylline  prophecy  of 
Christ.  "  In  reading  several  passages  of  the  prophet  Isaiah," 
wrote  Pope  in  the  Advertisement  prefixed  to  the  poem, 
"which  foretell  the  coming  of  Christ  and  the  felicities  attend- 
ing it,  I  could  not  but  observe  a  remarkable  parity  between 
many  of  the  thoughts  and  those  in  the  Pollio  of  Virgil.  This 
will  not  seem  surprising,  when  we  reflect  that  the  eclogue 
was  taken  from  a  Sibylline  prophecy  on  the  same  subject. 
One  may  judge  that  Virgil  did  not  copy  it  line  for  line,  but 
selected  such  ideas  as  best  agreed  with  the  nature  of  pastoral 
poetry,  and  disposed  them  in  that  manner  which  served 
most  to  beautify  his  piece.  I  have  endeavored  the  same 
in  this  imitation  of  him,  though  without  admitting  any- 
thing of  my  own;  since  it  was  written  with  this  particular 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  171 

view,  that  the  reader,  by  comparing  the  several  thoughts, 
might  see  how  far  the  images  and  descriptions  of  the  Prophet 
are  superior  to  those  of  the  Poet.  But  as  I  fear  I  have  prej- 
udiced them  by  my  management,  I  shall  subjoin  the  pas- 
sages of  Isaiah,  and  those  of  Virgil,  under  the  same  disad- 
vantage of  a  Uteral  translation. ' '  In  view  of  this,  it  is  natural 
that  Pope  should  be  nearer  Isaiah  than  Vergil  in  his  lan- 
guage, and  such  is  the  case.  He  does  introduce  an  appro- 
priate passage  from  the  fifth  Eclogiie, 

intonsi  montes,  ipsae  iam  carmina  rupes, 
ipsa  sonant  arbusta,  Deus,  deus  ille,  Menalca! 

{Eel  5.  63-64) 

But  because  of  his  express  desire  to  make  the  language  of 
Isaiah  appear  more  beautiful  than  that  of  Vergil,  he  has 
"managed"  in  almost  every  case  to  elaborate  upon  the 
ideas  of  the  prophet  rather  than  those  of  the  poet.  For 
instance,  he  writes, 

The  smiling  infant  in  his  hand  shall  take 
The  crested  basilisk  and  speckled  snake, 
Pleased  the  green  lustre  of  the  scales  survey, 
And  with  their  forky  tongue  shall  innocently  play. 

This  is  obviously  an  adornment  of  the  Hebrew,  "And 
the  sucking  child  shall  play  on  the  hole  of  the  asp,  and  the 
weaned  child  shall  put  his  hand  on  the  cockatrice'  den," 
rather  than  of  the  simple  Latin,  "  Occidet  et  serpens."  John- 
son's translation  of  the  Messiah  of  Pope  into  Latin  repays 
careful  study.  It  is  significant  that  it  is  not  Vergihan, 
which  it  could  scarcely  avoid  being  if  the  English  had  been 
strongly  colored  with  the  language  of  the  Pollio.  He  does 
use  the  phrase,  "Priscae  vestigia  fraudis,"  and  also  "Qualis 


172  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

rerum  nascitur  ordo,"  which  have  no  foundation  in  Pope's 
verse,  but  these  are  due  to  Johnson's  memory  of  Vergil 
rather  than  Pope's. 

In  the  same  number  of  Tonson^s  Miscellany  in  which 
Pope's  Pastorals  appeared,  were  printed  the  Pastorals  of 
Ambrose  Philips.  These  were  imitations  of  Spenser  rather 
than  of  the  classics,  and  Philips,  like  his  master,  discarded 
classical  names,  and  in  many  ways  tried  to  avoid  setting 
and  allusions  which  were  inappropriate  to  shepherd  life  in 
England,  although  he  by  no  means  lost  sight  of  his  Vergil. 
In  the  very  passage  in  which  he  praised  the  song  of  Colin 
Clout,  he  used  Vergilian  lines: 

Drawn  by  the  magick  of  th'  enticing  sound 
What  troops  of  mute  admirers  flock'd  around! 
The  steerlings  left  their  food,  and  creatures  wild 
By  nature  formed  insensibly  grew  mild." 

These  poems  were  responsible  for  one  of  Pope's  numerous 
literary  quarrels.  In  the  Guardian,  No.  32,  appeared  a 
paper  cast  in  the  form  of  a  pastoral  allegory,  in  which  the 
names  of  Theocritus,  Vergil,  Spenser,  and  Philips  were 
given  as  those  of  the  descendants  of  the  ancient  king  of 
the  shepherds.  Pope,  incensed  at  the  omission  of  his 
name,  and  the  preference  shown  to  his  rival,  wrote  a  paper 
and  sent  it  anonymously  to  the  Guardian  in  which  he  ridi- 
culed the  work  of  Philips  and  exalted  his  own.  But  it 
was  done  in  such  a  way  that  he  appeared  to  be  praising 
his  rival,  and  the  criticism  was  taken  in  good  faith  by  Steele, 
who  submitted  it  to  Pope  before  accepting  it,  being  unwill- 
ing to  hurt  his  feehngs.  Pope  affected  magnanimity,  and 
allowed  it  to  be  published,  but  his  irony  was  so  subtle  that 
the  majority  of  his  readers,  like  Steele,  missed  the  point. 

"  Cf.  Ed.  8.  2-4. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  173 

In  1714,  Gay  published  his  Shepherd^s  Week,  doubtless  at 
the  instigation  of  Pope,  with  the  intention  of  holding  the 
simple,  homely  pastoral  up  to  ridicule.  The  "Proeme  to 
the  Courteous  Reader"  announces  the  purpose  of  the  poet 
to  keep  his  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  true  to  nature. 
And  in  spite  of  the  ridiculous  names  of  Cloddipole  and 
Blouzelinda,  Bumkinet  and  Clumsilis,  and  the  obvious 
burlesque  of  the  conventional  forms  and  language.  Gay's 
own  poetic  gift  and  love  for  nature  have  made  of  these 
pastorals  something  more  delightful  than  a  mere  satire. 
Many  of  his  readers  thought  that  he  was  satirizing,  not  the 
eighteenth  century  pastoral,  but  Vergil  himself,  and  there 
is  reason  for  this  beUef ,  for  his  burlesques  are  nearer  to  the 
Latin  than  many  of  the  serious  imitations. 

But  the  burlesques  of  Gay,  of  Shenstone,  of  Jago,  of 
Walsh,  of  the  "Right  Honourable  L.  M.  W.  M.,"  and  of  the 
Dean  of  Saint  Patrick's  himself,  clever  and  numerous  as 
they  were,  apparently  had  no  deterring  effect  on  the  pro- 
duction of  Eclogues.  After  a  comparative  rest  during 
the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  form  sprang 
up  with  renewed  vigor  and  greater  artificiality,  but  with 
less  religious  and  social  allegory  and  satire.  It  was  such  a 
convenient  vehicle  for  the  expression  of  the  despair  of  a 
lover  or  of  grief  over  the  death  of  the  Queen  or  some 
noble  patron,  that  no  amount  of  ridicule  could  stop  it, 
and  it  finally  died  out  only  with  the  birth  of  the  new  love 
for  nature  which  could  not  admit  the  artificiaUty  of  such 
an  outworn  form.  With  some  exceptions,  such  as  that  of 
Ramsay's  Gentle  Shepherd,  even  when  the  attempt  was 
made  to  keep  the  characters  and  surroundings  true  to  English 
country  life,  the  result  was  absurd  in  its  artificiality.  Nearly 
every  poet  and  poetaster  who  hved  and  wrote  in  the  first 
thirty  or  forty  years  of  the  eighteenth  century,  tried  his 


174  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

hand  at  at  least  one  pastoral/^  and  for  the  most  part  it  is 
true  that,  as  Churchill  says, 

Then  the  rude  Theocrite  is  ransack'd  o'er, 
And  courtly  Maro  call'd  from  Mincio's  shore; 
Sicihan  Muses  o'er  our  mountains  roam, 
Easy  and  free  as  if  they  were  at  home. 

The  influence  of  the  Aeneid  on  Pope  is  not  so  definitely 
marked  as  that  of  the  Eclogues.  That  he  was  famiUar 
with  it  and  that  he  made  frequent  use  of  it,  is  obvious, 
but  his  works  display  no  such  careful  and  systematic  imita- 
tion of  this  poem  as  of  the  pastorals.  In  his  translation  of 
the  first  book  of  the  Thehaid  of  Statins,  one  is  tempted  to 
find  Vergilian  phraseology.  But  it  is  difficult  to  decide 
in  most  cases  whether  the  influence  is  direct  or  not,  for 
Statins  himself  was  such  a  close  student  of  Vergil  that  his 
Latin  is  greatly  affected  by  the  language  of  the  poet  whom 
he  so  deeply  reverenced.   There  are  a  few  instances,  however, 

"  The  following  is  a  list  of  the  chief  examples  of  the  eighteenth 
century  pastoral.  Undoubtedly  many  other  writers,  too  obscure  for 
their  works  to  have  survived  in  separate  form  or  to  have  been  included 
in  the  standard  collections  of  poetry,  were  guilty  of  similar  efforts. 
This  list  includes  only  pastorals  of  the  type  of  the  formal  eclogue, 
not  the  pastoral  lyrics  or  ballads,  whose  name  was  also  legion.  Am- 
brose Philips,  Pastorals;  Gay,  Shepherd's  Week,  Eclogues;  Thomas 
Warton,  Five  Pastoral  Eclogues;  Ramsay,  Richy  and  Sandy;  Collins, 
Persian  Eclogues;  Shenstone,  Colemira,  On  Certain  Eclogues;  Churchill, 
The  Prophecy  of  Famine;  Cunningham,  Palaemon;  Wm.  Thompson, 
The  Magi;  Wm.  Broome,  Daphnis  and  Lyddas,  A  Pastoral;  Jago, 
Ardenna,  The  Scavengers;  John  Scott,  Moral  Eclogues,  Amoehean  Eclogues; 
John  Logan  (?),  Damon,  Menalcas  and  Meliboeus;  Blacklock,  A  Pastoral; 
Right  Hon.  L.  M.  W.  M.,  Six  Town  Eclogues;  Swift,  A  Town  Eclogue; 
Lyttelton,  The  Progress  of  Love,  A  Monody;  Prior,  A  Pastoral  to  the 
Bishop  of  Ely;  Congreve,  The  Mourning  Muse  of  Alexis;  Fenton, 
Florelio;  Pomf  ret,  A  Pastoral  Essay  on  the  Death  of  Queen  Mary;  Walsh, 
Pectoral  Eclogues,  The  Golden  Age  Restored;  Harford,  The  Great  Shep- 
herd; Wm.  Mason,  Mitsaeus,  The  Dean  and  the  Squire. 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  175 

where  Pope  undoubtedly  had  Vergil  in  mind.  In  the 
description  of  Mercury,  for  example,  which  in  the  original 
is  strongly  reminiscent  of  the  Aeneid,  the  translator  could 
not  refrain  from  reproducing  the  Maia  genitum  of  Vergil  in 
"son  of  May,"  although  there  was  nothing  in  Statins  to 
justify  it. 

But  the  practice  of  the  writers  of  this  period  was  to  spend 
more  time  criticizing  the  Aeneid  than  imitating  it.  Some 
such  criticism  we  find  in  Pope's  Preface  to  his  translation 
of  Homer,  with  the  usual  contrast  between  the  ''invention" 
of  Homer  and  the  "judgment"  of  Vergil,  and  the  con- 
clusion that  the  Greek  poet  is  the  superior  in  most  respects. 
The  mock  epic,  however,  was  a  favorite  form  of  writing 
at  this  time,  and  afforded  opportunities  for  Vergilian  imi- 
tations.    The  1728  edition  of  the  Dunciad  began. 

Books  and  the  man  I  sing,  the  first  who  brings 
The  Smithfield  muses  to  the  ears  of  kings, 

and  Pope's  own  notes  to  the  edition  of  1729  cite  many 
passages  from  Vergil  as  the  originals  of  his  lines. ^^  Burlesque 
imitations  of  the  conventions  of  the  Aeneid  are  to  be  found 
in  that  "heroi-comical"  poem,  the  Rape  of  the  Lock.  The 
second  paragraph,  like  that  of  the  Aeneid,  inquires  the 
causes  of  so  mighty  a  contest: 

Say  what  strange  motive,  goddess!  could  compel 
A  well-bred  lord  to  assault  a  gentle  belle? 

and  there  follows  the  query. 

And  in  soft  bosoms  dwells  such  mighty  rage? 

"  One  of  the  appendices  to  the  1729  edition  is  the  Virgilius  Restau- 
ratus:  seu  Martini  Scribleri  Summi  Critici  Castigationum  in  Aeneidem. 
There  follows  a  "specimen"  containing  a  number  of  burlesque  emenda- 
tions, all  in  Latin. 


176  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

which  corresponds  to  the  famous  question  in  the  Aeneidy 
"tantaene  animis  caelestibus  irae?"  It  is  needless  to 
quote  in  full  the  passages  beginning,  "The  powers  gave 
ear,  and  granted  half  his  prayer,"  '*0  thoughtless  mortals! 
ever  bUnd  to  fate,"  "While  j&sh  in  streams  or  birds  delight 
in  air,"  "But  anxious  cares  the  pensive  nymph  oppressed," 
"Happy!  ah  ten  times  happy,"  and  others,  each  of  which 
will  call  to  mind  the  Vergilian  passage  which  is  cleverly 
parodied.  The  speech  of  Ariel  to  the  sylphs  is  in  true 
epic  style,  and  might  be  paralleled  in  Vergil.  The  punish- 
ments which  he  threatens  do  not  need  the  mention  of  Ixion 
to  remind  us  of  the  sixth  book  of  the  Aeneid,  and  the  reader 
has  probably  made  for  himself  the  comparison  between  the 
hard-hearted  baron  and  Aeneas  before  he  reaches  the  couplet, 

Not  half  so  fix'd  the  Trojan  could  remain, 
While  Anna  begg'd  and  Dido  raged  in  vain. 

Martinus  Scriblerus,  the  creation  of  Swift  and  his 
fellow  club-members,  reahzed  the  necessity  for  imitation 
in  an  epic  poem,  for  in  his  Recipe  for  making  such  a 
concoction,  he  gives  definite  directions  based  on  Vergil. 
"For  a  Tempest.  Take  Eurus,  Zephyr,  Auster  and 
Boreas,  and  cast  them  together  in  one  verse:  add  to 
them  of  rain,  Hghtning,  thunder  (the  loudest  you  can) 
quardum  suffidt:  mix  your  clouds  and  billows  well  together 
till  they  foam,  and  thicken  your  description  here  and  there 
with  a  quicksand.  Brew  your  tempest  well  in  your  head, 
before  you  set  it  a  blowing."  "For  a  Burning  Town.  If 
such  a  description  is  necessary  (because  it  is  certain  there 
is  one  in  Virgil)  old  Troy  is  ready  burnt  to  your  hands." 

Martinus  Scriblerus  was  later  made  the  hero  of  the  Scrih- 
leriad:  an  Heroic  Poeviy  by  Richard  Owen  Cambridge,  the 
chief  exponent  and  apologist  of  the  mock-epic  genre.  The 
aim  of  most  of  the  other  writers  of  the  mock-heroic  poem  was 


DRYDEN  AND  POPE  177 

satirical.  Dryden's  MacFlecknoe  and  Pope's  Dunciad  were 
the  models  for  a  whole  series  of  satires  in  more  or  less  mock- 
heroic  form,  and  Hilliads,  Consuliads,  and  Rosciads  were 
the  fashion  for  many  years.  Swift's  Battle  of  the  Books, 
though  in  prose,  belongs  to  the  same  general  type,  and 
Fielding's  "prose  epic,"  Tom  Jones,  contains  many  a  bur- 
lesque of  the  epic  style,  especially  of  the  Homeric  or  Ver- 
gilian  simile.  On  the  other  hand  there  is  Gay's  Fan,  which 
seems  more  like  the  Rape  of  the  Lock,  with  its  graceful  fun- 
making  at  the  expense  of  society.  Somerville's  Hohhinol, 
or  the  Rural  Games,  and  Paul  Whitehead's  Gymnasiad 
both  contain  echoes  of  the  fifth  book  of  the  Aeneid,  and  in 
burlesque  fashion  tell  of  foot-races,  wrestling-matches,  and 
boxing-bouts,  for  which  the  Vergilian  account  furnishes  the 
basis.  Somerville's  purpose  was  partially  satirical  also, 
for  he  says  in  his  dedication  to  Hogarth,  "In  this  at  least 
let  us  both  agree,  to  make  Vice  and  Folly  the  Object  of  our 
Ridicule." 

Cambridge,  however,  does  not  think  this  type  of  mock- 
epic  the  model  to  be  followed.  The  true  mock-heroic  poem, 
he  says  in  his  mock-serious  Preface,  is  one  which  has  the 
burlesquing  of  the  classic  epics  as  its  sole  purpose.  He 
holds  up  Don  Quixote  as  a  model  example  of  the  species, 
but  discards  the  satires  of  Dryden  and  Pope  because  they 
have  a  divided  aim.  The  chief  requisite  of  a  mock-epic  is 
that  it  should  follow  the  ancients  as  nearly  as  possible,  and 
that  there  should  be  absolute  propriety  between  the  hero 
and  the  subject.  His  hero,  Scriblerus,  is  an  eminently  proper 
hero  for  a  mock-epic,  because,  as  the  readers  of  his  Memoirs 
will  remember,  he  was  brought  up  on  a  knowledge  of  the 
classics.  There  will  be,  therefore,  in  the  poem,  many 
passages  intended  as  imitations  of  the  ancients,  which  none 
but  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  classics  will  understand. 
With  this  introduction,  he  plunges  into  the  story  of  his 


178  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

hero,  who  is  driven  by  "wrathful  Saturn's  unrelenting  rage" 
through  many  dangers  on  land  and  sea.  Overtaken  by  a 
sandstorm  in  the  desert,  guided  by  a  comet  like  that  which 
pointed  the  way  for  Aeneas  and  Anchises  on  their  depar- 
ture from  Troy,  he  meets  a  band  of  pilgrims  to  whom  he 
relates  his  previous  adventures.  These  include  a  storm  at 
sea,  an  encounter  with  the  Acrosticks,  whose  leader  proph- 
esies that  he  and  his  followers  will  be  forced  to  drink 
iron,  his  love-affair  with  the  Queen  of  the  country  on  whose 
shores  he  lands,  which  is  told  in  great  detail  and  with  almost 
continual  burlesque  of  the  story  of  Aeneas  and  Dido,  and  the 
funeral  games  for  a  dead  Acrostick.  Not  only  these  inci- 
dents, but  also  many  in  the  succeeding  history  of  Scriblerus, 
show  that  Cambridge  is  thinking  chiefly  of  the  Aeneid  in 
his  burlesque. 

Thus  the  most  elaborate  example  of  this  type  of  poetry 
is  based  largely  on  Vergil,  and  this  is  the  main  phase  of 
the  formal  imitation  of  the  Aeneid  in  this  period.  The 
bones  of  the  epic  convention,  stirred  by  the  breath  of  Augus- 
tan criticism,  are  clothed  with  flesh  again  only  to  don  the 
cap  and  bells. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THOMSON  AND  THE   DIDACTIC  POETS 

The  pastoral  and  epic  traditions  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury both  furnished  material  for  burlesque  and  satire,  even 
at  the  very  height  of  the  popularity  of  these  types  of  verse. 
But  the  followers  of  Thomson  were  of  too  serious  a 
cast  to  make  fun  of  themselves  or  of  each  other;  and  with 
the  exception  of  Swift  and  Gay,  whose  City  Shower  and 
Trivia  were  both  written  long  before  the  Seasons  appeared, 
all  the  imitators  of  the  Georgics  of  Vergil  were  in  sober 
earnest.  The  didactic  temper  was  a  part  of  the  spirit  of 
the  age  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  it  manifested  itself, 
not  only  in  these  professed  imitations  of  the  Georgics,  but 
in  the  verse  essays  and  moral  epistles  which  were  a  favorite 
form  of  poetry  with  Pope  and  his  followers.  Although 
the  type  developed  along  the  lines  of  moral  and  spiritual 
instruction  as  well,  the  poems  which  embody  practical 
instructions  for  the  farmer,  the  hunter,  the  shepherd,  or  the 
gardener  are  those  which  owe  the  most  to  Vergil.  Yet 
many  a  Preface  to  a  poem  treating  of  any  subject  from  Sick- 
ness to  the  Pleasures  of  Imagination,  and  many  a  passage 
in  such  poems,  acknowledged  tacitly  or  openly  that  he  was 
the  source  of  inspiration. 

James  Thomson  was  by  far  the  greatest  and  most  in- 
fluential poet  of  the  group  which  combined  rules  for  the 
countryman  with  descriptions  of  nature.  His  influence  was 
felt,  not  only  in  England,  but  also  on  the  continent,  in 
France  and  Germany,  both  in  descriptive  poetry  and  in 
purely  didactic   verse.     He   was  not   the   pioneer  in   this 

179 


180  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

field,  however,  for  Garth's  Dispensary  had  appeared  in  1699 
and  John  PhiUps'  Cyder  in  1706.  Nor  was  he  the  most 
thoroughly  didactic,  and  the  precepts  of  many  of  his  fellows 
sound  more  Vergilian  than  his  descriptions.  The  opening 
of  Cyder,  the  first  example  of  the  didactic  poem  of  nature, 
is  quite  Uke  the  Georgics: 

What  soil  the  apple  loves,  what  care  is  due 
To  orchats,  timeliest  when  to  press  the  fruits. 

Some  further  Unes  in  the  same  poem  express  the  ideal  of 
this  group  of  poets  illustrated  by  the  practice  of  Vergil, 
an  ideal  which  they  all  tried  to  attain,  but  which  none 
but  Thomson  succeeded  in  approaching: 

Nor  is  it  hard  to  beautify  each  month 

With  files  of  parti-colour'd  fruits,  that  please 

The  tongue  and  view  at  once.    So  Maro's  Muse, 

Thrice  sacred  Muse!  commodious  precepts  gives 

Instructive  to  the  swains,  not  wholly  bent 

On  what  is  gainful:  sometimes  she  diverts 

From  solid  counsels,  shows  the  force  of  love 

In  savage  beasts;  how  virgin  face  divine 

Attracts  the  helpless  youth  through  storms  and  waves, 

Alone,  in  deep  of  night:  then  she  describes 

The  Scythian  winter,  nor  disdains  to  sing 

How  under  ground  the  rude  Riphaean  race 

Mimic  brisk  Cyder  with  the  brakes'  product  wild; 

Sloes  pounded.  Hips,  and  Servis'  harshest  juice. 

Thus  he  returns  to  his  subject,  and  in  Miltonic  blank  verse, 
which  is  the  almost  invariable  medium  of  these  didactic 
poets,  he  endeavors  to  mingle  poetry  with  precepts  as  his 
master  had  done.  So,  nearly  forty  years  later,  Akenside 
appeals  to  the  same  authority  to  justify  his  digressions  from 
the  subject,  saying  in  his  prefatory  discussion  of  the  design 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  181 

of  his  poem  on  the  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination,  that  the 
author  has  been  led  "to  introduce  some  sentiments  which 
may  perhaps  be  looked  upon  as  not  quite  direct  to  the 
subject;  but  since  they  bear  an  obvious  relation  to  it,  the 
authority  of  Virgil,  the  faultless  model  of  didactic  poetry, 
will  best  support  him  in  this  particular." 

In  Lyttelton's  fourteenth  Dialogue  of  the  Dead,  that  be- 
tween Pope  and  Boileau,  the  French  critic  asks  his  EngUsh 
disciple,  "Who  is  the  poet  that  arrived  soon  after  you  in 
Elysium,  whom  I  saw  Spenser  lead  in  and  present  to  Virgil, 
as  the  author  of  a  poem  resembUng  the  Georgicsf  On  his 
head  was  a  garland  of  the  several  kinds  of  flowers  that 
blow  in  each  season,  with  evergreens  intermixed."  And 
Pope  gives  the  obvious  answer,  "Your  description  points  out 
Thomson."  Thus  the  friend  and  editor  of  the  leader  of  the 
didactic  nature  poets  of  the  eighteenth  century  recognized 
the  fact  that  Vergil  furnished  the  model  on  which  the  Seasons 
was  formed.  But  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  garland 
of  flowers  and  evergreens  was  largely  Thomson's  own. 
There  is  great  danger  that  a  discussion  which  pretends  to 
treat  only  one  side  of  a  subject  should  leave  a  one-sided 
impression.  While  Thomson  was  undoubtedly  Vergil's 
debtor  in  many  respects,  both  in  the  general  form  of  his 
work  and  in  a  large  number  of  details,  yet  he  differed  from  ^ 
him  in  nearly  as  many  points.  His  fundamental  aim  was  M  / 
to  describe  rather  than  to  teach,  and  it  is  rather  to  some  of  i  I 
his  followers,  such  as  Dyer  and  Somerville,  that  the  term 
"didactic"  should  be  appUed,  for  it  is  more  expressive  of  the 
purpose  of  their  work  than  of  that  of  Thomson.  Not  that 
Vergil  never  used  description  in  the  Georgics  purely  for  its 
own  sake,  for  he  showed  the  hand  of  a  master  in  such  a 
picture  as  that  of  the  garden  of  the  senex  Corydus  or  that 
of  the  life  under  the  water  in  the  episode  of  Aristaeus; 
nor  that  Thomson  never  taught,  for  he  did  it  frequently  and 


182  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

with  true  Vergilian  effect,  as  in  the  account  of  the  pre- 
cautions to  be  taken  against  the  plague  of  locusts.  But  it 
is  true  that  both  his  long  descriptions  and  his  moral  re- 
flections are  foreign  to  the  manner  of  Vergil.  Thomson 
mingled  imitation  and  originaUty  in  his  work  much  after 
the  fashion  of  his  own  advice  to  the  fisherman  overtaken  by 
the  heat  of  noon : 

There  let  the  classic  page  thy  fancy  lead 
Through  rural  scenes;  such  as  the  Mantuan  swain 
Paints  in  the  matchless  harmony  of  song; 
Or  catch  thyself  the  landscape,  gliding  swift 
Athwart  imagination's  vivid  eye. 

In  the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of  Winter,  which 
appeared  in  June,  1726,  Thomson  makes  a  plea  for  the 
adoption  of  more  elevated  subjects  for  poetry.  No  subject, 
he  claims,  is  more  elevating  or  more  amusing  than  Nature, 
and  the  best  poets,  ancient  and  modem,  have  been  happiest 
when  at  leisure  to  meditate  and  sing  her  works.  He  in- 
stances the  book  of  Job,  and  then  continues,  **It  was  this 
devotion  to  the  works  of  Nature  that,  in  his  Georgics,  in- 
spired the  rural  Virgil  to  write  so  inimitably;  and  who 
can  forbear  joining  with  him  in  this  declaration  of  his, 
which  has  been  the  rapture  of  the  ages."  There  follows 
the  well-known  passage  from  the  second  GeorgiCy^  where 
the  poet  longs  for  the  opportunity  to  study  the  processes 
of  Nature,  or  at  least  to  observe  her  manifestations.  In 
this  place,  Thomson  has  made  a  commonplace  transla- 
tion of  these  verses,  but  later,  in  the  closing  lines  of  AiUumn, 
he  has  given  a  fine  paraphrase  of  the  passage,  which  was 
evidently  a  favorite  one  with  him,  for  it  is  recognizable 
in  several  other  places.  The  lines  in  Autumn^  coming  as 
they  do  at  the  end  of  the  last-written  portion  of  the  Seasons, 
»  Georg.  2.  475-486. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  183 

gum  up  his  doctrine  and  also  serve  to  emphasize  the  bond 
between  him  and  Vergil : 

O  Nature!  all-sufl5cient!  over  all! 

Enrich  me  with  the  knowledge  of  thy  works! 

Snatch  me  to  heaven;  thy  rolling  wonders  there, 

World  beyond  world,  in  infinite  extent. 

Profusely  scattered  o'er  the  blue  immense, 

Shew  me;  their  motions,  periods  and  their  laws. 

Give  me  to  scan;  thro'  the  disclosing  deep 

Light  my  blind  way:  the  mineral  Strata  there; 

Thrust,  blooming,  thence,  the  vegetable  world; 

O'er  that  the  rising  system,  more  complex,  ^ 

Of  animals;  and  higher  stUl,  the  mind. 

The  varied  scene  of  quick-compounded  thought. 

And  where  the  mixing  passions  endless  shift; 

These  ever  open  to  my  ravish'd  eye; 

A  search,  the  flight  of  time  can  ne'er  exhaust!  ; 

But  if  to  that  unequal;  if  the  blood,  • 

In  sluggish  streams  about  my  heart,  forbid  j 

That  best  ambition;  under  closing  shades,  ^ 

Inglorious,  lay  me  by  the  lowly  brook. 

And  whisper  to  my  dreams. 

Thus  both  by  express  statement  and  by  implication, 
Thomson  refers  to  the  authority  of  Vergil  to  justify  his 
choice  of  subject,  and  again  in  Spring  he  says, 

Nor  ye  who  hve 
In  luxury  and  ease,  in  pomp  and  pride,  I 

Think  these  lost  themes  unworthy  of  your  ear; 
Such  themes  as  these  the  rural  Maro  sung 
To  wide-imperial  Rome,  in  the  full  height 
Of  elegance  and  taste,  by  Greece  refined. 

It  would  be  easy  and  tiresome  to  fill  many  pages  with' 
parallel  passages  from  Vergil  and  Thomson,  some  of  them 
with  little  justification,  the  similarity  often  arising  merely 


184  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

from  the  likeness  in  subject-matter.  But  there  are  many 
lines  which  offer  conclusive  evidence  that  Thomson  was 
writing  with  his  eye  on  Vergil  as  well  as  on  the  object.  In 
discussing  these,  it  will  be  best  to  consider  the  four  parts  of 
the  poem  in  the  order  in  which  they  were  written,  rather 
than  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  usually  printed. 

In  the  form  in  which  we  now  read  Winter,  there  are  more 
Vergilian  reminiscences  than  in  any  other  portion  of  the 
Seasons,  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  concluding  lines 
of  Autumn.  The  picture  of  the  ox  covered  with  snow  and 
of  the  deer  buried  in  the  drifts,  the  instructions  to  the 
shepherds  for  the  care  of  their  flocks  in  the  cold  weather, 
the  account  of  the  storm  at  sea,  and  above  all  the  enumera- 
tion of  the  signs  of  approaching  tempest,  owe  much  to  Vergil. 
The  last  two  are  worth  considering  in  detail.     The  lines, 

Turns  from  its  bottom  the  discoloured  deep, 

The  black  night  that  sits  immense  around, 

.  .  .  the  mountain  billows  to  the  clouds 
In  dreadful  tumult  swelled, 

and 

.  .  .  now  the  inflated  wave 

Straining  they  scale,  and  now  impetuous  shoot 

Into  the  secret  chambers  of  the  deep, 

contain  all  the  essential  features  of  the  description  of  the 
storm  in  the  first  book  of  the  Aeneid.  There  are  to  be 
found  the  corresponding  Unes, 

totumque  a  sedibus  imis 
una  Eurusque  Notusque  ruunt,       (11.  84-85) 

.  .  .  ponto  nox  incubat  atra,  (1.  89) 

.  .  .  fluctusque  ad  sidera  toUit,        (1.  103) 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  185 

hi  suinino  in  fluctu  pendent;  his  unda  dehiscens 
terram  inter  fluctus  aperit,  furit  aestus  harenis, 

(U.  106-107) 

and  again  in  the  account  of  Scylla  and  Charybdis, 

tollimur  in  caelum  curvato  gurgite,  et  idem 
subducta  ad  manis  imos  desedimus  mida. 

(Aen.  3.  564-5) 

The  most  interesting  thing  about  these  echoes  of  Vergil  is 
that  none  of  them  appears  in  the  early  editions  of  Winter. 
In  the  texts  of  the  two  1726  editions,  the  passage  is  almost 
entirely  free  from  any  suggestion  of  the  Latin.  In  the  1730 
edition,  most  of  the  Vergilian  features  are  present,  and  that 
of  1744  completes  the  transformation  by  changing 

The  loud  night,  that  bids  the  wave  arise 
to 

The  black  night  that  sits  immense  around. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  description  of  the  signs  of 
approaching  storm,  which  is  closely  modeled  on  certain 
lines  in  the  first  Georgic.  The  brief  passage  of  six  lines  in 
the  1726  edition  is  practically  without  indication  of  Ver- 
gilian influence.  In  the  text  of  1730,  seven  lines  are  added, 
four  of  which  are  distinctly  Vergilian,  and  in  1744  the  pas- 
sage is  expanded  to  thirty-five  lines  chiefly  by  the  addition 
of  what  are  virtually  translations  of  the  Latin.  Of  the  fol- 
lowing passage,  all  except  the  first  line,  the  first  part  of  the 
fourth,  and  a  few  words  in  the  last  two,  are  new  in  the  1744 
text: 

The  stars  obtuse  emit  a  shivering  ray; 

Or  frequent  seem  to  shoot  athwart  the  gloom. 

And  long  behind  them  trail  the  whitening  blaze. 

Snatch'd  in  short  eddies,  plays  the  wither'd  leaf; 

And  on  the  flood  the  dancing  feather  floats. 


186  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

With  broadened  nostrils  to  the  sky  upturned, 
The  conscious  heifer  snuffs  the  stormy  gale. 
Even  as  the  matron,  at  her  nightly  task, 
With  pensive  labour  draws  the  flaxen  thread, 
The  wasted  taper  and  the  crackling  flame 
Foretell  the  blast.    But  chief  the  plumy  race, 
The  tenants  of  the  sky,  its  changes  speak. 
.  .  .  The  cormorant  on  high 
Wheels  from  the  deep,  and  screams  along  the  land. 
Loud  shrieks  the  soaring  hern;  and  with  wild  wing, 
The  circling  sea-fowl  cleave  the  flaky  clouds. 

The  models  for  this  may  be  foxmd  in  the  following  lines  from 
the  first  Georgic: 

saepe  etiam  Stellas  vento  impendente  videbis 
praecipitis  caelo  labi,  noctisque  per  umbram 
flammarum  longos  a  tergo  albescere  tractus; 
saepe  levem  paleam  et  frondes  voUtare  caducas, 
aut  summa  nantis  in  aqua  conludere  plumas. 

(U.  365-9) 
.  .  .  bucula  caelum 
suspiciens  patuUs  captavit  naribus  auras. 

(U.  375-6) 
ne  nocturna  quidem  carpentes  pensa  puellae 
nescivere  hiemem,  testa  cum  ardente  viderent 
scintillare  oleum  et  putris  concrescere  fungos. 

(U.  390-2) 

.  .  .  medio  celeres  revolant  ex  aequore  mergi 
clamoremque  ferunt  ad  htora,  cumque  marinae 
in  sicco  ludunt  fuUcae,  notasque  paludes 
deserit  atque  altam  supra  volat  ardea  nubem. 

(U.  361-4) 

More  lines  might  be  quoted  from  both  poems,  but  these  are 
sufficient  to  show  the  fidelity  with  which  Thomson  followed 
Vergil. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  187 

It  is  significant  that,  according  to  the  statement  of  G.  C. 
Macaulay,  as  the  indebtedness  to  Vergil  increases,  that 
to  other  poets  decreases  in  the  successive  editions.  The 
same  critic  is  incHned  to  credit  that  increase  to  the  influ- 
ence of  Lyttelton.2  It  is  in  Winter,  too,  that  Vergil  is 
placed  emphatically  first  among  the  shades  of  the  great 
poets.     In  the  first  edition  he  is  hailed  as 

Maro!  the  best  of  poets  and  of  men, 

and  in  the  second  as 

Maro!  the  glory  of  the  poet's  art, 

while  in  the  final  form,  the  praise  is  softened  somewhat  but 
not  lessened : 

Behold  who  yonder  comes!  in  sober  state, 
Fair,  mild,  and  strong,  as  is  a  vernal  sun: 
'Tis  Phoebus'  self,  or  else  the  Mantuan  swain! 

Summer,  which  first  appeared  in  1727,  has  fewer  Vergilian 
reminiscences  than  Winter.  There  is  a  sUght  echo  of  that 
favorite  passage  which  he  had  already  quoted  in  the  Preface 
to  the  second  edition  of  Winter,  in  the  lines  beginning. 

Thrice  happy  he!  that  on  the  sunless  side 
Of  a  romantic  mountain,  forest-crowned. 
Beneath  the  whole  collected  shade  reclines, 

and  it  is  possible  that  the  closing  apostrophe  to  Philosophy 
was  suggested  by  this  same  passage.  In  the  1727  and  1730 
texts,  were  some  lines  describing  the  starting  of  a  forest 
fire,  which  were  modeled  upon  Vergil,  but  these  are  omitted 
in  the  later  editions.  The  long  passage,  however,  contain- 
ing the  praise  of  Britain  and  the  enumeration  of  the  great 
'  James  Thomson.     (English  Men  of  Letters  )  pp.  145-6. 


188  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

names  in  her  history,  obviously  owes  much  to  a  similar 
passage  in  the  second  Georgic  in  praise  of  Italy.^  The 
likeness  is  rather  in  the  general  idea  and  purpose  of  the 
passage  than  in  individual  phrases  or  expressions.  Both 
begin  with  a  description  of  the  fertility  of  the  soil  and  the 
prosperity  of  the  country,  and  then  pass  to  an  account  of 
the  cities  with  their  active  business  life,  and  the  harbors 
which  give  evidence  of  supremacy  in  commerce.  Then 
follows  an  enumeration  of  the  great  names  in  the  history  of 
each  country,  although  Thomson's  list  includes  men  of 
letters  as  well  as  statesmen  and  warriors.  Each  poet  con- 
cludes with  an  address  to  his  beloved  land.  As  is  char- 
acteristic of  much  of  the  English  imitation  of  Latin,  Thomson 
is  more  verbose  than  Vergil.  The  name  of  each  hero  is  the 
touch  of  the  rowel  which  spurs  on  the  English  Pegasus  for 
several  lines;  whereas  the  Latin  poet  leaves  the  elaboration 
to  his  reader,  adding  to  the  proper  name  at  most  only  a 
single  epithet.  The  "weighty  brevity"  of  the  classic 
writers,  which  Landor  so  much  admired,  was  dijQicult  for 
the  average  Englishman  to  imitate. 

There  are  a  number  of  passages  in  Spring  where  Thomson 
is  following  Vergil,  among  them  the  descriptions  of  the 
battle  of  the  bulls  with  the  heifer  standing  by,  of  the  singing 
of  the  birds  at  the  coming  of  Spring,  and  of  the  nightingale 
robbed  of  her  yoimg: 

Oft  when  returning  with  her  loaded  bill, 
The  astonished  mother  finds  a  vacant  nest, 
By  the  hard  hand  of  unrelenting  clowns 
Robbed,  to  the  ground  the  vain  provision  falls; 
Her  pinions  ruffle,  and  low-drooping  ficarce 
Can  bear  the  mourner  to  the  poplar  shade, 
Where  all  abandoned  to  despair  she  sings 
Her  sorrows  through  the  night;  and  on  the  bough 

»  Gearg.  2.  136-176. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  189 

Sole-sitting,  still  at  every  dying  fall 
Takes  up  again  her  lamentable  strain 
Of  winding  woe,  till  wide  around  the  woods 
Sigh  to  her  song,  and  with  her  wail  resound. 

This  is  an  elaboration  of  Vergil's  lines, 

qualis  populea  maerens  philomela  sub  umbra 
amissos  queritur  fetus,  quos  durus  arator 
observans  nido  implumis  detraxit;  at  ilia 
flet  noctem,  ramoque  sedens  miserabile  carmen 
integrat,  et  maestis  late  loca  questibus  implet. 
{Georg.  4.  511-515) 

The  description  of  the  Golden  Age  is  a  treatment  of  a 
theme  so  universal  in  all  literature  that  it  is  impossible  to 
trace  it  to  any  one  model.     When  Thomson  writes, 

But  now  those  white  unblemished  minutes,  whence 
The  fabling  poets  took  their  golden  age, 
Are  foimd  no  more  amid  these  iron  times, 

he  may  be  thinking  of  Horace  and  his  longing  for  the  arva 
heata,  of  Isaiah  and  his  picture  of  the  reign  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace,  or  of  any  of  their  numerous  imitators.  But  when 
we  examine  the  lines  which  were  in  the  early  editions,  but 
were  not  included  in  those  of  1744  and  1746,  it  is  clear 
that  Vergil  is  his  chief  though  not  his  only  model.  Thomson 
departs  here  from  the  Georgicsi,  which  contain  merely  a 
suggestion  for  the  passage,  and  follows  the  fourth  Eclogue, 
many  of  the  lines  being  close  imitations  of  the  Latin: 

The  knotted  oak 
Shook  from  his  boughs  the  long  transparent  streams 
Of  honey,  creeping  through  the  matted  grass. 
Th'  uncultivated  thorn  a  ruddy  shower 
Of  fruitage  shed,  on  such  as  sat  below.  .  .  . 


190  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Nor  had  the  spongy  full-expanded  fleece 
Yet  drunk  the  Tjrrian  dye.    The  stately  ram 
Shone  through  the  mead,  in  native  purple  clad, 
Or  milder  saffron;  and  the  dancing  lamb 
The  vivid  crimson  to  the  sun  disclosed. 

These  are  the  very  words  of  Vergil  translated  into  the  past 
tense,  with  the  usual  elaboration: 

incultisque  rubens  pendebit  sentibus  uva, 
et  durae  quercus  sudabunt  roscida  mella.  .  .  . 
nee  varios  discet  mentiri  lana  colores, 
ipse  sed  in  pratis  aries  iam  suave  rubenti 
murice,  iam  croceo  mutabit  vellera  luto; 
sponte  sua  sandyx  pascentis  vestiet  agnos. 

(Eel  4.  29-30,  42-45) 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  what  caused  Thomson  to 
discard  Vergilian  echoes  here  and  add  them  in  the  later 
editions  of  Winter. 

Perhaps  the  answer  is  to  be  found  in  a  passage  in  Autumn, 
Here  he  follows  Vergil's  description  of  the  rise  of  the  various 
arts  as  it  is  given  in  the  first  Georgic,*  when  the  Roman 
poet,  instead  of  lamenting  the  advent  of  agriculture  and 
commerce  as  he  had  in  the  fourth  Eclogue,  regards  all  the 
^  diflRculties  placed  in  the  way  of  man  as  blessings  given  by 
'  Jove  which  might  enable  mortals  to  climb  upward  in  the 


\ scale  of  civilization; 


pater  ipse  colendi 
haud  facilem  esse  viam  voluit,  primusque  per  artem 
movit  agros  curis  acuens  mortaUa  corda, 
nee  torpere  gravi  passus  sua  regna  vetemo. 

Both  poets,  on  maturer  thought,  seem  to  have  rejected  the 

image  of  the  idleness  and  luxury  of  the  Golden  Age,  and  to 

«  Georg.  1.  118-159. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  191 

have  sung  the  song  of  labor.  Perhaps  Thomson  felt  the 
stories  of  the  Golden  Age  to  be  what  he  called  them  in  the 
1728  edition,  "gaudy  fables/'  unsuitable  for  a  "Genius  fired 
with  the  charms  of  Truth  and  of  Nature."  In  this  account 
of  the  progress  of  civilization,  he  is  in  accord  too  with  the 
theories  of  modern  scientists  and  of  that  strangely  modern 
ancient,  Lucretius. 

Vergil's  description  of  a  torrent  of  rain  in  the  first  Georgic  ^ 
furnished  the  model  for  Thomson's  harvest  storm,  as  it  did 
for  Swift's  City  Shower.  The  simile  in  the  second  book  of 
the  Aeneid,^  in  which  Aeneas  compares  himself  as  he  stands 
upon  his  housetop  and  watches  the  flames  sweep  nearer, 
to  a  shepherd  gazing  from  a  rock  at  the  onrush  of  a  mountain- 
torrent  flooding  the  fields,  was  the  basis  of  the  following 
lines: 

Fled  to  some  eminence,  the  husbandman 
Helpless  beholds  the  miserable  wreck 
Driving  along;  his  drowning  ox  at  once 
Descending,  with  his  labours  scattered  roimd 
He  sees, 

of  which  the  last  lines  are  close  to  the  Vergilian 
.  .  .  sternit  sata  laeta  boumque  labores. 

I  have  already  quoted  the  closing  lines  of  Autumn,  and 
shown  their  relation  to  a  passage  in  the  second  Georgic. 
But  the  similarity  begins  many  lines  back  of  this.  In  the 
first  place,  in  order  to  introduce  the  lines  on  Stowe  in  the 
1744  edition,  a  passage  was  incorporated  which  had  been 
originally  in  the  early  editions  of  Winter,  beginning, 

Oh!  bear  me  then  to  vast  embowering  shades. 

About  two  hundred  lines  later,  Thomson  begins  his  praise 
«  Gearg.  1.  311-334.  •  Am.  2.  304-308. 


192  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

of  country  life,  which  continues  throughout  the  passage 
quoted  above  to  the  end  of  the  poem.     It  begins, 

Oh  knew  he  but  his  happiness,  of  men 
The  happiest  he!  who  far  from  pubHc  rage 
Deep  in  the  vale,  with  a  choice  few  retir'd. 
Drinks  the  pure  pleasure  of  the  rural  life. 

This  again,  hke  the  Golden  Age,  is  a  favorite  theme  with 
many  poets,  but  none  has  given  it  perhaps  such  full  expres- 
sion as  Vergil  in  the  hues '  which  serve  as  a  model  for  those 
of  Thomson : 

O  fortimatos  nimium,  sua  si  bona  norint, 
agricolas!  quibus  ipsa  procul  discordibus  armis 
fundit  humo  facilem  victum  iustissima  tellus. 

It  is  not  only  the  similarity  in  phraseology  in  these  two 
passages,  of  which  many  examples  might  be  quoted,  but  the 
general  harmony  of  thought  and  feeUng  between  them  which 
marks  the  influence  of  Vergil  upon  Thomson.  There  are 
many  other  things  which  show  the  kinship  of  the  two  poets, 
as  their  common  deUght  in  sounding  names,  the  frequent 
allusions  to  Vergil  in  Thomson's  letters  and  in  his  other 
poems,  and  the  emotion  which  his  reading  of  the  Latin 
aroused  in  him.  But  nothing  marks  it  so  definitely  as  this 
passage,  which  reveals  their  common  "devotion  to  the 
works  of  Nature,"  which  Thomson  recognized  as  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  GeorgicSj  and  their  common  beUef  in  a  Deity  who 

pervades 
Adjusts,  sustains,  and  agitates  the  whole.' 

As  is  evident  from  the  passages  quoted  above,  Thomson 
shows  in  his  relation  to  Vergil  the  sympathy  of  one  great 
poet   of  nature  for   another,  and  manifests  his  influence 

'  Georg.  2.  458  flf.  •  Cf.  Georg.  4.  219-227  and  Aen.  6.  724r-7. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  193 

in  single  passages  and  general  tone,  rather  than  in  the 
scheme  or  purpose  of  his  work.  Thomson's  followers, 
however,  seized  upon  the  didactic  element  of  his  poem, 
and  taking  the  hint  partly  from  him  and  partly  from  Vergil 
himself,  they  developed  that  side  of  Thomson's  work  through 
all  the  extremes  of  tediousness  and  absurdity.  James 
Grainger,  the  author  of  the  Sugar  Cane,  "a  West  India 
Georgic"  in  four  books,  the  favorite  number,  since  it  had 
been  chosen  by  both  Vergil  and  Thomson,  calls  the  roll  of 
the  chief  didactic  poets : 

Spirit  of  Inspiration,  that  didst  lead 
Th'  Ascraean  poet  to  the  sacred  mount, 
And  taught'st  him  all  the  precepts  of  the  swain; 
Descend  from  Heaven,  and  guide  my  trembling  steps 
To  Fame's  eternal  dome,  where  Maro  reigns; 
Where  pastoral  Dyer,'  where  Pomona's  bard. 
And  Smart  ^°  and  Somervile  "  in  varjdng  strains. 
Their  sylvan  lore  convey. 

To  this  list,  however,  we  must  add  the  names  of  John  Arm- 
strong, who  wrote  on  the  Art  of  Preserving  Health,  and  of 
William  Thompson,  whose  subject  was  Sickness;  of  David 
Mallet,  whose  Fancy  took  flight  over  the  whole  world  in 
his  Excursion,  and  of  Mark  Akenside,  the  commemorator 
of  the  Pleasures  of  Imagination;  of  Thomas  Tickell,  who 
wrote  a  fragment  of  a  poem  on  Hunting,  of  Robert  Dodsley, 
the  author  of  a  poem  called  Agriculture,  of  Matthew  Green, 
whose  subject  was  the  Spleen,  of  Soame  Jenyns,  who  gave 
instructions  in  verse  on  the  Art  of  Dancing,  and  finally  of 
William  Mason,  in  whose  English  Garden,  one  of  the  best 
of  the  descendants  of  the  Seasons,  didactic  poetry,  accord- 
ing to  Warton,  *4s  brought  to  perfection,  by  the  happy  com- 

9  Dyer  wrote  The  Fleece. 
1"  Christopher  Smart  wrote  The  H op-Garden. 
^^  Somerville's  poem  was  The  Chase. 


194  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

bination  of  judicious  precepts,  with  the  most  elegant  orna- 
ments of  language  and  poetry."  Nor  must  we  forget  Eras- 
mus Darwin's  Botanic  Garden,  the  second  part  of  which,  the 
Loves  of  the  Plants,  moved  the  editors  of  the  Anti- Jacobin  to 
unholy  mirth  and  clever  parody  in  the  Loves  of  the  Triangles. 
Many  of  these  well-intentioned  poets  thought  that  they 
were  supplying  a  deficiency  in  the  works  of  Vergil. 
Somerville,  for  instance,  remarks  that  the  subject  of  the 
Chase  might  well  have  been  treated  in  the  third  Georgic, 
but  that  Vergil  devotes  only  ten  verses  to  it,  and  confines 
his  discussion  of  dogs  to  greyhoimds  and  mastiffs.  And 
by  the  time  we  have  worked  our  way  through  these  weari- 
some wastes,  we  are  ready  to  apply  Maison's  query  to  the 
whole  school,  and  to  sympathize  with  him  when  he  says. 

Yet,  while  I  thus  exult,  my  weak  tongue  feels 

Its  ineffectual  powers,  and  seeks  in  vain 

That  force  of  ancient  phrase  which,  speaking,  paints. 

And  is  the  thing  it  sings.    Ah  Virgil!  why, 

By  thee  neglected,^*  was  this  loveliest  theme 

Left  to  the  grating  voice  of  modem  reed? 

Why  not  array  it  with  the  splendid  robe 

Of  thy  rich  diction,  and  consign  the  charge 

To  Fame,  thy  hand-maid,  whose  immortal  plume 

Had  borne  its  praise  beyond  the  bounds  of  Time? 

Cowper  in  The  Task  shows  to  some  extent  the  influence 
of  Thomson  and  his  followers.  He  is  continuing  the  com- 
bination of  didactic  and  rural  poetry  which  appears  even 
in  Wordsworth,  although  both  poets  are  more  concerned 
with  drawing  moral  and  religious  lessons  from  Nature  than 
with  giving  practical  directions  to  the  rustic.  This  is 
especially  true  of  the  author  of  the  Prelude.  In  The  Garden 
Cowper  gives  in  true  Vergilian  fashion  instructions  for  the 

»»  See  Georg.  4.  147-8. 


THOMSON  AND  THE  DIDACTIC  POETS  195 

growth  of  "no  sordid  fare,  a  cucumber,"  for  which  the 
gardener  must  build  a  hotbed. 

First  he  bids  spread 
Dry  fern  or  litter'd  hay,  that  may  imbibe 
The  ascending  damps,  then  leisurely  impose, 
And  lightly,  shaking  it  with  agile  hand 
From  the  full  fork,  the  saturated  straw. 

Another  passage  tells  of  the  care  necessary  for  flowers  in  a 
greenhouse : 

The  soil  must  be  renew'd,  which,  often  wash'd, 
Loses  its  treasure  of  salubrious  salts, 
And  disappoints  the  roots:  the  slender  roots 
Close  interwoven  where  they  meet  the  vase 
Must  smooth  be  shorn  away;  the  sapless  branch 
Must  fly  before  the  knife;    the  wither'd  leaf 
Must  be  detach'd,  and,  where  it  strews  the  floor, 
Swept  with  a  woman's  neatness,  breeding  else 
Contagion,  and  disseminating  death. 

Lines  like  these  have  the  true  didactic  sound,  and  may  well 
have  been  written  under  the  influence  of  either  Vergil  or 
Thomson.  That  the  Georgics  were  not  far  from  Cowper's 
mind  as  he  wrote  the  Task  is  evident  from  the  comparison 
drawn  from  the  fourth  Georgic  to  aid  in  describing  the  Rus- 
siap  palace  of  ice: 

In  such  a  palace  Aristaeus  found 
Cyrene,  when  he  bore  the  plaintive  tale 
Of  his  lost  Bees  to  her  maternal  ear. 

And  VergiFs  famihar  lines, 

O  fortunatos  nimium,  sua  si  bona  norint, 
agricolas!  quibus  ipsa  procul  discordibus  armis 
fundit  himio  facilem  victmn  iustissima  tellus, 

(Georg.  2.  458-60) 


196  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

may  have  found  an  echo  in  Cowper^s  wish: 

O  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness, 
Some  bomidless  contiguity  of  shade, 
Where  rumor  of  oppression  and  deceit, 
Of  unsuccessful  or  successful  war, 
Might  never  reach  me  more. 


CHAPTER  IX 
LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS 

The  study  of  Latin  has  until  recent  years  kept  the  noise- 
less tenor  of  its  way,  for  the  most  part  unshaken  by  the 
various  changes  in  educational  theory  or  literary  practice. 
Throughout  the  centuries  it  has  remained  steadily  the 
basis  of  culture  in  England,  and  until  recently  its  value 
and  necessity  have  not  been  questioned.  But  at  certain 
times,  notably  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  and 
in  the  Romantic  Period,  there  has  been  a  sudden  growth  of 
an  interest  in  Greek  literature  which  for  the  time  has  thrown 
Latin  into  the  background.  But  even  then,  although  it 
has  not  led  the  spectacular  life  of  its  elder  sister,  it  has 
quietly  held  its  own,  and,  like  Cinderella,  done  the  daily 
chores  that  the  more  brilliant  sister  might  go  out  into  society. 
And  there  was  always  the  possibility  of  a  visit  from  the 
Fairy  Godmother,  by  means  of  whose  enchantments  the 
beauty  of  the  drudge  might  be  shown  to  the  world. 

Such  a  period  of  comparative  neglect  of  Latin  was  ushered 
in  with  the  Romantic  Movement  in  England.  About  the 
middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
revolt  against  rules  and  formalism  and  imitative  poetry, 
the  spontaneous  graces  of  the  Greeks  won  more  admirers 
than  the  regular  art  of  the  Romans.  Cowper's  favorite 
poet  was  Homer  and  not  Vergil,  and  Wilkie  followed  the 
Greek  model  in  his  Epigoniad,  and  attacked  Vergil  on 
the  ground  of  plagiarism.     In  his  Dream  he  says  to  Homer, 

Let  Tityrus  himself  produce  his  store, 
Take  what  is  thine,  but  little  will  remain: 
Little  I  wot,  and  that  indebted  sore 
To  Ascra's  bard,  and  Arethusa's  swain; 
And  others  too  beside,  who  lent  him  many  a  strain. 
197 


i 


198  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

This  attack  by  Wilkie,  however,  is  extreme.  For  the 
most  part,  writers  merely  ignored  the  Latin  poet  in  favor 
of  the  Greek.  Gray  and  his  friend  Mason,  ColHns  and  Cow- 
per,  Coleridge  ^  with  his  training  under  the  Reverend  James 
Bowyer,  all  showed  their  preferences  for  the  earlier  litera- 
ture. The  later  Romanticists  also  preferred  the  Greek, 
and  their  interest  in  Hellenic  Uterature  and  art  was  fostered 
by  their  intense  enthusiasm  for  the  brave  struggle  that  the 
modem  Greeks  were  making  for  liberty  and  independence. 
These  facts  explain  the  scarcity  of  references  to  Vergil  or 
imitations  of  his  poems  in  the  work  of  men  like  Byron  and 
Shelley .2  All  these  poets  knew  Vergil,  but  he  did  not  find 
a  prominent  place  in  their  poetry. 

Many  years  before  the  Lyrical  Ballads  appeared,  the 
formal  classical  epic  had  gone  out  of  fashion,  and  men  had 
gradually  ceased  to  care  for  the  polished  brilhancy  of  the 
mock-heroic.  They  were  beginning  to  think  with  Field- 
ing that  nothing  could  be  more  absurd  than  the  invoca- 
tion of  a  muse  by  a  modern.  The  time  had  gone  by, 
too,  for  sober  didactic  poems,  with  elaborate  digressions 
on  the  beauties  of  Nature  expressed  in  stilted  and  laborious 
blank  verse,  even  though  the  Seasons  retained  its  popularity 
well  into  the  middle  of  the  century.  The  Loves  of  the  Tri- 
angles was  an  effective  reductio  ad  ahsurdum  for  the  average 
examples  of  this  type  of  versifying.  There  was  of  course 
no  sudden  or  final  revolt  against  the  mock-epic  of  Pope  or 
the  didactic  poem  of  Thomson.     The  Rape  of  the  Lock  was 

*  See  his  Biographia  Literaria  (Everyman's  Library),  p.  3.  Coleridge 
once  said,  "If  you  take  from  Virgil  his  diction  and  meter,  what  do 
you  leave  him? "  Specimens  of  the  Table  TaUc  of  Samuel  Taylor  Cole- 
ridge, edited  by  H.  N.  C,  p.  30. 

'  See  Prometheita  Unbound,  II.  2.  90  ff.,  where  there  is  a  reference 
to  Vergil's  sixth  Eclogue,  and  Hellas,  11.  1060  ff.,  with  an  echo,  ad- 
mitted by  Shelley,  of  the  Pollio.  Also  see  Keats,  Ode  to  Apollo,  stanza 
3.    Shelley  translated  part  of  the  tenth  Eclogue. 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  199 

still  admired,  and  the  Dunciad  furnished  Byron  with  a 
model  for  his  English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers.  Rogers' 
didactic  poem,  The  Pleasures  of  Memory,  appeared  in  the  last 
decade  of  the  eighteenth  century.  But  in  general  the 
movement  of  the  Romanticists  was  away  from  the  formal 
and  the  imitative.  The  new  nature  poets  had  no  use 
for  the  artificial  pastoral,  and  objected  as  much  to 
the  meaningless  generalities  of  the  diction  of  Pope  and 
his  contemporaries  as  to  their  transplanted  nymphs  and 
shepherds.  Some  of  the  earlier  Romanticists  endeavored 
to  make  Vergil  argue  on  their  side  of  the  question,  and 
plead  for  a  true  love  of  nature.  Joseph  Warton,  for  instance, 
in  his  Enthusiast,  writes, 

And  great  Aeneas  gazed  with  more  delight 

On  the  rough  mountains  shagged  with  horrid  shades,  .  .  . 

Than  if  he  enter'd  the  high  Capitol 

On  golden  columns  rear'd,  a  conquered  world 

Exhausted,  to  enrich  its  stately  head. 

More  pleased  he  slept  in  poor  Evander's  cot. 

On  shaggy  skins,  lull'd  by  sweet  nightingales, 

Than  if  a  Nero,  in  an  age  refined. 

Beneath  a  gorgeous  canopy  had  plac'd 

His  royal  guest. 

But  on  the  whole,  the  attitude  was  that  of  Crabbe,  the 
realist,  who  rebelled  against  the  classical  pastoral  in  these 
words : 

On  Mincio's  bank,  in  Caesar's  bounteous  reign, 

If  Tityrus  found  the  Golden  Age  again,  I    i      > 

Must  sleepy  bards  the  flattering  dream  prolong,  j  /       '-^ 

Mechanic  echoes  of  the  Mantuan  song?  *  *    * 

From  Truth  and  Nature  shall  we  widely  stray. 

Where  Virgil,  not  where  Fancy,  leads  the  way?  ' 

»  The  Village,  published  in  1783. 


200  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

In  view  of  these  facts,  it  is  obvious  that  if  we  are  to  find 
Vergilian  influence  at  this  time  when  the  individual  was 
so  important,  it  will  be,  not  in  any  school,  like  the  pastoral 
or  the  didactic  poets,  but  in  individual  writers,  whose 
inevitable  early  training  in  the  classics  has  left  with  them 
a  memory  of  Vergil  which  other  interests  cannot  efface, 
and  which  is  too  precious  to  abandon.  It  will  be  in  a  Beattie, 
who  writes, 

Fain  would  I  sing  (much  yet  unsung  remains) 
What  sweet  delirium  o'er  his  bosom  stole, 
When  the  great  shepherd  of  the  Mantuan  plains 
His  deep  majestic  melody  'gan  roll. 

It  will  be  in  a  single  poem  Uke  Laodamia,  which  Words- 
worth wrote  after  re-reading  Vergil  with  his  son.  It  will 
be  in  a  Cowper,  who,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  liked  the 
Homeric  epics  better  than  the  Aeneidy  was 

never  weary  of  the  pipe 
Of  Tityrus,  assembling  as  he  sang. 
The  rustic  throng  beneath  his  fav'rite  beech. 

And  most  of  all  it  will  be  in  a  Landor,  the  greatest  classicist 
of  the  period  among  the  men  of  letters,  as  Swinburne  called 
him,  "a  child  of  Rome." 

Landor's  pleasure  in  the  classics  never  flagged;  he  read 
and  studied  them  throughout  his  life  from  his  schooldays 
to  the  last  years  in  Italy,  when  he  found  a  reUef  from  his 
troubles  in  teaching  Latin  to  Miss  Kate  Field,  his  young 
American  friend.  The  first  direct  evidence  of  his  interest 
in  Vergil  is  to  be  found  in  a  translation  of  a  portion  of  the 
fourth  Georgic  which  he  made  in  1794.  In  spite  of  its 
high  literary  quality,  he  never  pubUshed  it,  but  the  first 
twenty  lines  are  printed  in  the  biography  by  Forster,*  who 
*  Life  and  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Landor,  vol.  I,  p.  24. 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  201 

found  the  translation  among  Landor's  papers.  And  the 
constant  references  to  Vergil  in  his  letters,  the  frequent  quo- 
tations from  his  writings,  and  the  large  amount  of  criticism 
of  him  contained  in  the  Imaginary  Conversations  and  in  the 
critical  essays  on  Theocritus  and  Catullus,  are  sure  proofs 
of  his  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  the  greatest  of  the  Latin 
poets. 

Landor  was  interested  in  the  great  writers  of  the  past 
not  merely  as  authors.  He  must  call  them  all  up  before 
him,  and  make  them  talk  again  in  an  idiom  as  nearly  their 
own  as  possible.  But  in  his  re-creation  of  the  personality 
of  Vergil,  he  has  not  proved  himself  equal  to  the  subject, 
unless  it  is  true  that  he  was  consciously  representing  Vergil's 
shyness  by  painting  him  in  the  most  neutral  colors.  It 
would  not  be  remarkable,  however,  if  he  had  failed  to  attain 
to  full  sympathy  with  a  man  of  Vergil's  nature.  A  char- 
acter whose  outstanding  qualities  were  modesty  and  hatred 
of  strife,  could  hardly  be  thoroughly  understood  by  a  man 
whose  chief  delight  was  in  stirring  up  feuds  with  his  neigh- 
bors and  cultivating  the  feeling  of  being  abused.  In  any 
case,  we  have  in  the  dialogue  between  Virgilius  and  Horatius 
a  colorless  representation  of  the  former,  in  whom  there  are 
no  evidences  of  a  genius  great  enough  to  write  the  Aeneid. 
Horace  is  far  more  strongly  individualized,  and  it  is  through 
his  words  chiefly  that  we  obtain  whatever  impression  we 
get  of  his  companion.  Some  facts  we  do  glean  from  Vergil's 
words  as  to  his  indebtedness  to  antiquity  and  his  unwilling- 
ness to  disturb  the  religious  faith  of  the  people,  but  these  seem 
rather  forced  references  to  his  work,  and  throw  little  light 
on  his  personality.  A  slight  feeling  of  contempt  for  the 
gentle,  retiring  disposition  of  the  poet  tinges  the  words 
which  Landor  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Porson,  with  a  strange 
forgetfulness  of  the  third  ode  of  the  first  book  of  Horace. 
"The  ancients,"  he  said,  ''used  to  give  the  sea  the  color 


202  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

they  saw  in  it,  .  .  .  Virgil  blue-green,  as  along  the  coast  of 
Naples  and  Sorrento:  I  suspect,  from  his  character,  he 
never  went  a  league  off  land.  He  kept  usually,  both  in 
person  and  poetry,  to  the  vada  caerulea."  To  be  absolutely 
fair,  however,  the  reply  of  Southey  must  be  added:  "But 
he  hoisted  purple  sails,  and  the  mother  of  his  Aeneas  was 
at  the  helm." 

Vergil  was  by  no  means  Landor's  favorite  poet,  even 
among  the  Romans.  Ovid,  in  his  opinion,  had  the  finest 
imagination  of  all  the  ancient  Romans,  and  was  more  like 
Homer  than  Vergil  was.  Vergil  was  inferior  to  Euripides 
in  poetical  power,  to  Lucretius  in  vigor,  to  Catullus  in  ele- 
gance and  grace.  He  concedes  that  all  thqir  powers  to- 
gether could  not  have  composed  the  Aeneid,  a  poem  which 
shortly  before  he  has  called  the  ''most  mis-shapen  of  epics. '* 
In  fact,  almost  every  word  of  praise  is  accompanied  by  a 
quaUfying  ''but."  At  the  beginning  of  the  Imaginary 
Conversations,  Landor  cautions  the  reader  against  credit- 
ing to  him  any  of  the  opinions  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths 
of  his  characters.  But  when  the  same  estimate  is  repeated 
over  and  over  again  in  different  dialogues,  the  reader  begins 
to  think  that  the  personal  feeling  of  'the  author  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  its  formulation.  Therefore  when  we  read 
that  Messala  considered  the  description  of  Winter  in  the 
third  Georgic  ^  "unworthy  of  even  a  secondary  poet," 
with  "no  selection  of  topics,  no  arrangement,  no  continuity," 
and  that  Petrarch  said  that  "of  all  who  have  ever  dealt  with 
Winter,  he  is  the  most  frost-bitten,"  and  that  in  Porson's 
opinion,  "incomparably  better  is  Cowper's  Winter  than  Vir- 
gil's, which  is  indeed  a  disgrace  to  the  Georgics,'^  and  that 
this  passage  is  one  of  those  severely  criticized  by  Home 
Tooke,  the  conclusion  is  inevitable  that  Landor  himself 
thought  that  these  lines  were  poor  work.  We  may  there- 
•  Li.  34^383. 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  203 

fore  fairly  take  the  words  which  the  speakers  in  his  dialogues 
utter  in  regard  to  Vergil  as  indicative  of  Landor's  own 
ideas. 

Certainly  the  general  impression  gained  from  the  first 
reading  of  his  criticisms  of  Vergil  is  that  Landor  was  not 
very  favorably  disposed  toward  him.  The  destructive  criti- 
cisms far  outnumber  the  constructive.  But  upon  closer 
examination  of  the  facts,  it  becomes  clear  that  this  numerical 
superiority  is  not  as  significant  as  it  might  seem  at  first  sight. 
For,  as  in  the  case  of  the  remarks  on  the  description  of 
Winter,  Landor  is  prone  to  dwell  upon  certain  points.  Thus 
he  expresses  his  low  opinion  of  the  fourth  Eclogue  many 
times.  It  lacks  harmony,  says  Messala;  it  is  a  mass  of 
incoherent  verses,  says  Calvus,  another  contemporary;  and 
men  of  later  periods  speak  of  it  as  the  dullest  and  poorest 
poem  which  Italy  has  produced,  and  as  a  sin  for  which 
the  author  needs  to  be  forgiven.  Similarly  he  records 
again  and  again  his  sense  of  the  unfitness  of  the  episode  of 
Eurydice  in  the  Georgics,  and  of  the  bathos,  the  affectation, 
the  inflated  language  of  which  Vergil  is  guilty.  In  the 
second  place,  it  is  evident  that  these  criticisms  are  almost 
entirely  on  small  points.  Such  and  such  lines  are  bad, 
here  is  an  instance  of  tautology,  of  hypallage,  of  unpleasant 
repetition  of  sounds,  of  anachronism.  With  an  array  of 
examples  to  prove  their  validity,  which  seems  formidable  un- 
til we  realize  that  here  again  Landor  is  repeating,  and 
making  the  same  lines  do  double  and  even  treble  duty, 
statements  like  these  are  repeated  with  annoying  insistence, 
till  we  are  ready  to  cry  out  with  Boccaccio,  ^'You  really 
haveVlmost  put  me  out  of  conceit  with  Virgil." 

But  here  Landor  would  imdoubtedly  answer  with  Pe- 
trarch, "I  have  done  a  great  wrong  then  both  to  him  and 
you.  Admiration,"  he  continues,  *'is  not  the  pursuivant  to 
all  the  steps  even  of  an  admirable  poet;    but  respect  is 


204  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

stationary.  Attend  him  when  the  ploughman  is  unyoking 
the  sorrowful  ox  from  his  companion  dead  at  the  furrow; 
follow  him  up  the  arduous  ascent  where  he  springs  beyond 
the  strides  of  Lucretius;  and  close  the  procession  of  his 
glory  with  the  coursers  and  cars  of  Elis."  Indeed  in  more 
general  terms,  Landor  is  perfectly  ready  to  praise  the  state- 
liness,  the  gravity  (in  the  true  Latin  sense),  the  harmony, 
rhythm,  and  boundless  variety  of  Vergil's  versification, 
which  "nothing  in  Latin  excels."  Although  he  beheves 
that  Vergil's  pastorals  are  almost  as  inferior  to  those  of 
Theocritus  as  Pope's  are  to  his,  yet  he  says,  "  Even  in  these 
there  not  only  are  melodious  verses,  but  harmonious  sen- 
tences, appropriate  images,  and  tender  thoughts.  Once 
or  twice  we  find  beauties  beyond  any  in  Theocritus."  Even 
the  Georgics,  which  receive  the  lion's  share  of  criticism,  are 
"admirable"  and  contain  passages  better  than  any  in 
Catullus,  especially  that  touch  of  nature  in  the  lines, 

it  tristis  arator 
maerentem  abiungens  fraterna  morte  iuvencum. 

(Georg.  3.  517-8) 

While  Landor  speaks  frequently  of  the  faults  in  con- 
struction which  mar  the  Aeneid,  he  awards  to  it  more  praise 
than  blame,  and  is  evidently  especially  impressed  by  the 
power  of  the  fourth  book.  The  characters  do  not  always 
please  him.  He  compares  the  heroes  of  the  Aeneid  to  the 
half-extinct  frescoes  of  Raphael,  but  attributes  the  indis- 
tinctness, not  to  the  ravages  of  time,  but  to  the  deficiency 
in  the  genius  of  the  artist.  ''No  man,"  he  says  (this  time 
in  his  own  person),  "ever  formed  in  his  mind  an  idea 
of  Dido,  or  perhaps  ever  wished  to  form  it;  particularly  on 
finding  her  memory  so  extensive  and  her  years  so  mature, 
that  she  could  recollect  the  arrival  of  Teucer  at  Sidon." 
But  later  in  the  same  conversation  with  Abb^  Delille,  he 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  205 

says  that  the  passion  of  Dido  is  always  true  to  nature; 
and  in  the  course  of  his  criticism  of  Catullus,  he  gives  expres- 
sion in  the  strongest  terms  to  his  admiration  of  this  episode 
in  the  "mis-shapen  epic,"  which  shows  that  Landor  was  not 
always  captious  in  his  criticism,  but  could  express  most 
generously  his  appreciation  of  what  he  really  believed  was 
a  fine  passage.  He  was  thoroughly  honest  in  his  opinions, 
without  a  doubt ;  his  error  lies  in  lack  of  proportion.  Neither 
in  Catullus,  Lucretius,  nor  Homer,  he  says,  "is  there  any- 
thing so  impassioned,  and  therefore  so  sublime  as  the  last 
hours  of  Dido  in  the  Aeneid.  Admirably  as  two  Greek 
poets  have  represented  the  tenderness,  the  anguish,  the 
terrific  wrath  and  vengeance  of  Medea,  all  the  works  they 
ever  wrote  contain  not  the  poetry  which  Virgil  has  con- 
densed into  about  one  hundred  verses:  omitting,  as  we 
must,  those  which  drop  like  icicles  from  the  rigid  lips  of 
Aeneas;  and  also  the  similes  which,  here  as  everywhere, 
sadly  interfere  with  passion.  In  this  place  Virgil  fought 
his  battle  of  Actium,  which  left  him  poetical  supremacy  in 
the  Roman  world,  whatever  mutinies  and  conspiracies 
may  have  arisen  against  him  in  Germany  or  elsewhere.  .  .  . 
Virgil  is  depreciated  by  the  arrogance  of  self-sufficient  poets, 
nurtured  on  coarse  fare,  and  dizzy  with  home-brewed  flattery. 
Others  who  have  studied  more  attentively  the  ancient 
models,  are  abler  to  show  his  relative  station,  and  readier  to 
venerate  his  powers.  Although  we  find  him  incapable  of 
contriving,  and  more  incapable  of  executing,  so  magnificent 
a  work  as  the  Iliad,  yet  there  are  places  in  his  compared 
with  which  the  grandest  in  that  grand  poem  lose  much  of 
their  elevation.  Never  was  there  such  a  whirlwind  of  pas- 
sions as  Virgil  raised  on  those  African  shores,  amid  those 
rising  citadels  and  departing  sails.  When  the  vigorous 
verses  of  Lucretius  are  extolled,  no  true  poet,  no  sane  critic, 
will  assent  that  the  seven  or  eight  examples  of  the  best 


206  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

are  equivalent  to  this  one:  even  in  force  of  expression,  here 
he  falls  short  of  Virgil." 

But  while  Landor  clearly  knows  the  poetry  of  Vergil 
thoroughly,  and  is  able  both  to  appreciate  its  beauties  and 
to  pick  out  its  faults,  he  wastes  his  critical  energies  upon 
such  futile  comparisons  as  that  just  quoted,  and  he  misses 
entirely  the  deeper  significance  of  the  poems.  He  regards 
all  three.  Eclogues,  Georgics,  and  Aeneid,  as  pieces  of  hterary 
workmanship,  and  criticizes  them  as  such.  Inconsistencies 
and  anachronisms  in  the  Aeneid  call  for  his  disapproval, 
—  in  the  Aeneid,  a  poem  admittedly  left  incomplete,  upon 
the  perfecting  of  which  Vergil  intended  to  spend  three  more 
years,  and  which,  according  to  the  legend,  he  asked  to  have 
destroyed  after  his  death.  His  approval  is  bestowed  upon 
a  single  line,  which  he  calls  ''the  noblest  verse  in  the  Latin 
language,"  or  upon  the  episode  of  Dido's  death,  or  the  words 
of  Mezentius  to  his  horse,  or  the  description  of  a  summer 
storm.  But  there  is  no  word  of  the  Eclogues  as  the  first 
evidence  of  a  new  tradition  in  Latin  poetry,  or  of  the  Aeneid 
as  a  great  national  poem.  He  does  not  seem  to  have  had 
even  the  reahzation  that  Dante  had  of  the  universal  signi- 
ficance of  the  great  Roman  epic.  He  is  more  like  the  mediae- 
val rhetoricians  and  grammarians,  with  their  tendency  to 
pick  out  individual  passages  for  consideration.  Unlike 
them,  however,  he  feels  no  blind  reverence  for  everything 
that  Vergil  wrote,  but  blames  as  well  as  praises,  and  is 
ready  to  give  a  reason  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him.  It 
is  the  Romantic  method  of  individual  appreciation  in 
criticism.  The  reign  of  Aristotle  and  the  "rules"  is 
over. 

But  in  order  to  realize  what  that  was  that  Landor  'missed, 
compare  with  this  summary  of  his  opinions,  the  following 
words  of  a  critic  of  the  last  decade  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury.   In  his  Latin  Literature ,  J.  W.  Mackail  speaks  of  the 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  207 

Eclogues  as  follows:  *' Their  true  significance  seems  to  have 
been  at  once  reaUzed  as  marking  the  beginning  of  a  new  era; 
and  amid  the  storm  of  criticism,  laudatory  and  adverse, 
which  has  raged  around  them  for  so  many  ages  since,  this 
cardinal  fact  has  always  remained  prominent.  AHke  to  the 
humanists  or  the  earlier  Renaissance,  who  found  in  them 
the  sunrise  of  a  golden  age  of  poetry  and  the  achievement 
of  the  Latin  conquest  over  Greece,  and  to  the  more  recent 
critics  of  this  century,  for  whom  they  represented  the  echo 
of  an  already  exhausted  convention  and  the  beginning  of  the 
decadence  of  Roman  poetry,  the  Eclogues  have  been  the  real 
turning-point,  not  only  between  two  periods  of  Latin  Litera- 
ture, but  between  two  worlds."  •  This  abihty  to  see  the  real 
significance  of  these  poems  is  not  joined  with  any  blindness 
to  their  faults,  for  this  passage  is  followed  by  one  in  which 
their  weaknesses  are  pointed  out  with  an  unerring  hand. 
Again,  in  comparing  the  following  words,  which  sum  up 
the  fundamental  qualities  of  the  Aeneid,  with  Landor's 
estimate  of  the  same  poem,  consider  how  much  the  latter 
has  left  unsaid.  "The  earUer  national  epics  of  Naevius 
and  Ennius  .  .  .  had  originated  the  idea  of  making  Rome 
itself  .  .  .  the  central  interest,  one  might  almost  say  the 
central  figure,  of  the  story.  To  adapt  the  Homeric  methods 
to  this  new  purpose,  and  at  the  same  time  to  make  his  epic 
the  vehicle  for  all  his  inward  broodings  over  life  and  fate, 
for  his  subtle  and  delicate  psychology,  and  for  that  philo- 
sophic passion  in  which  all  the  other  motives  and  springs 
of  hfe  were  becoming  included,  was  a  task  incapable  of 
perfect  solution."  ^ 

The  direct  influence  of  Vergil  upon  Landor  is  noticeable 
chiefly  in  Gehir,  His  style,  both  in  poetry  and  prose,  shows 
a  marked  Latin  influence,  but  there  is  little  possibiUty  of 

•  P.  93.  ^  Pp.  96-97. 


208  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

tracing  this  directly  to  Vergil.  Such  participial  construc- 
tions as  occur  in  the  lines, 

Lamented  they  their  toil  each  night  o'erthrown, 
or 

Him  overcome,  her  serious  voice  bespake, 

are  proofs  of  the  effect  upon  him  of  long  familiarity  with 
Latin  idiom,  but  not  necessarily  Vergilian  idiom. 

But  Gehir  plainly  shows  Vergilian  influence  in  the  narra- 
tive itself.  This  poem  is  not  classical  in  theme,  but  is,  like 
Southey's  narrative  poems,  an  epic  on  a  ''romantic  theme 
with  classical  or  at  least  unromantic  handHng."  But  even 
the  romantic  theme  is  indebted  in  some  degree  to  the  Aeneid. 
The  poem  begins  in  the  orthodox  epic  fashion, 

I  sing  the  fates  of  Gebir. 

In  the  later  Latin  version,  the  first  words  are  "Fata  cano.*' 
The  first  thirty-four  lines  of  the  second  book  describe  the 
building  of  the  city,  and  instantly  recall  the  description  of 
the  building  of  Carthage  as  Aeneas  and  Achates  saw  it 
from  the  hill  which  overhung  the  town.^  It  is  impos- 
sible to  believe  that  Landor  did  not  have  in  mind  the  lines 
of  the  Latin  poet  at  the  time  he  was  writing  these.  The 
Gadites  are  hard  at  work  preparing  a  place  for  their  city: 

Some  raise  the  painted  pavement,  some  on  wheels 
Draw  slow  its  luminous  length,  some  intersperse 
Salt  water  through  the  sordid  heaps,  and  seize 
The  flowers  and  figures  starting  fresh  to  view; 
Others  rub  hard  large  masses,  and  essay 
To  polish  into  white  what  they  misdeem 
The  growing  green  of  many  trackless  years. 

•  Of.  Milton's  description  of  the  building  of  Pandemonium,  Par.  Lost, 
Book  I.  U.  670-730. 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  209 

Far  off  at  intervals  the  axe  resounds 

With  regular  strong  stroke,  and  nearer  home 

Dull  falls  the  mallet  with  long  labour  fringed. 

Here  arches  are  discover'd;  there  huge  beams 

Resist  the  hatchet,  but  in  fresher  air 

Soon  drop  away:  there  spreads  a  marble  squared 

And  smoothen'd;  some  high  pillar  for  its  base 

Chose  it,  which  now  lies  ruin'd  in  the  dust. 

While  the  actual  deeds  performed  are  not  identical,  yet, 
in  view  of  the  spirit  of  the  passage  and  the  use  of  detail  in 
the  description,  Vergil's  account  of  the  building  of  Carthage 
unquestionably  furnished  a  model  for  the  lines  quoted 
above : 

instant  ardentes  Tyrii:  pars  ducere  muros 
moUrique  arcem  et  manibus  subvolvere  saxa, 
pars  optare  locum  tecto  et  concludere  sulco; 
iura  magistratusque  legunt  sanctumque  senatum. 
hie  portus  alii  effodiunt;  hie  alta  theatris 
fundamenta  locant  ahi,  immanisque  columnas 
rupibus  excidunt,  scaenis  decora  alta  futuris. 
quaUsapes-  (Ae».  1.  423-430) 

and  here  follows  the  typical  Vergilian  simile  which  Lander 
does  not  make  use  of. 

The  third  book  of  Gehir  is  undoubtedly  a  reminiscence  of 
the  sixth  book  of  the  Aeneid.  Gebir,  conducted  by  Aroar, 
as  Aeneas  by  the  Sibyl,  descends  to  the  Underworld,  where 
he  sees  the  shades  of  his  ancestors  enduring  punishment. 
As  in  Vergil,  there  is  a  description  of  the  "happy  fields." 
As  Aeneas  meets  his  father,  so  does  Gebir,  though  the 
parent  of  the  latter  is  not  in  Elysium. 

In  the  sixth  book  there  are  two  passages  in  which  Landor 
must  have  had  Vergil  in  mind.  The  first  is  where  the 
nymph  promises  to  tell  Tamar 


210  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

What  makes,  when  Winter  comes,  the  Sun  to  rest 
So  soon  on  Ocean's  bed  his  paler  brow. 
And  night  to  tarrj'  so  at  Spring's  return. 

These  are  ahnost  the  identical  words  of  the  bard  lopas, 
who  sang  at  the  banquet  which  Dido  gave  in  honor  of  her 
Trojan  guest.     He  told 

quid  tantum  oceano  properent  se  tingere  soles 
hibemi,  vel  quae  tardis  mora  noctibus  obstet. 
{Aen.  1.  745-6) 

Again  the  description  of  Aetna  is  very  much  like  that  in 
the  third  book  of  the  Aeneid.  The  two  entire  passages 
should  be  compared,  but  the  following  lines  from  each  will 
serve  for  the  purposes  of  illustration. 

And  now  Sicanian  Aetna  rose  to  view: 
Darkness  with  light  more  horrid  she  confounds, 
Baffles  the  breath  and  dims  the  light  of  day. 

He  heard  the  roar  above  him,  heard  the  roar 

Beneath,  and  felt  it  too,  as  he  beheld. 

Hurl,  from  Earth's  base,  rocks,  moimtains  to  the  skies. 

These  are  Landor's  lines.     Vergil's  are  as  follows: 
sed  horrificis  iuxta  tonat  Aetna  minis. 


interdum  scopulos  avulsaque  viscera  montis 
erigit  eructans,  hquefactaque  saxa  sub  auras 
cum  gemitu  glomerat  fundoque  exaestuat  imo. 

intremere  omnem 
murmure  Trinacriam. 

{Aen.  3.  571,  575-7,  581-2) 


LANDOR  AND  THE  ROMANTICISTS  211 

Landor's  Latin  verse  is  quite  Landorian.  Anyone  who 
reads  the  Latin  version  of  Gebir,  for  instance,  and  an  equal 
number  of  Unes  in  the  Aeneid,  consecutively,  will  be  struck 
at  once  with  the  difference  in  the  rhythm  of  the  hexameters. 
Needless  to  say,  the  Roman  ''wielder  of  the  stateliest  meas- 
ure" has  the  advantage  in  smoothness  and  poUsh.  Yet 
here  in  the  midst  of  un-Vergilian  measures  are  many  Ver- 
giUan  phrases  and  cadences.  It  was  almost  inevitable 
for  one  who  knew  his  Vergil  well,  and  who  wanted  to  speak 
in  Latin  hexameter  verse  of  a  wounded  breast,  to  use  the 
words  sub  pectore  vulnus,  for  it  is  a  favorite  verse  ending 
of  Vergil's,  occurring  at  least  four  times  in  the  Aeneid. 
The  familiar  steteruntque  comae  is  echoed  by  Landor,  with  the 
same  shortening  of  the  e,  and  fit  strepitus,  en  age  rumpe 
moras,  and  parce  tuo  generi  are  well-known  VergiUan  expres- 
sions. A  careful  study  of  the  seven  books  of  Gebirus  has 
revealed  over  a  dozen  verse-tags,  and  nearly  as  many  phrases 
at  the  beginning  of  hues,  which  recall  Vergil,  beside  many 
other  word-combinations  in  other  places  in  the  verse,  and 
some  echoes  that  cannot  be  identified  exactly.  The  pro- 
portion is  about  the  same  in  his  other  hexameter  verse. 

Landor's  wish  that  Vergil  in  particular  might  be  followed 
by  the  younger  poets,  and  the  following  words  of  Petrarch 
in  the  Pentameron,  sum  up  Landor's  practice  and  theory  in 
regard  to  the  poems  of  Vergil :  "If  younger  men  were  present," 
said  Petrarch,  "I  would  admonish  and  exhort  them  to 
abate  no  more  of  their  reverence  for  the  Roman  poet  on 
the  demonstration  of  his  imperfections,  than  of  their  love 
for  a  parent  or  guardian  who  had  walked  with  them  far 
into  the  country,  and  had  shown  them  its  many  beauties 
and  blessings,  on  his  lassitude  or  his  debility.  Never  will 
such  men  receive  too  much  homage.  He  who  can  best 
discover  their  blemishes,  will  best  appreciate  their  merit, 
and  most  zealously  guard  their  honor.'' 


CHAPTER  X 
TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS 

Although  Landor  was  really  a  Romanticist,  he  lived 
to  see  the  great  poets  of  the  Victorian  era.  The  continua- 
tion of  the  life  of  this  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  classics,  is 
in  a  sense  typical  of  the  continuity  of  the  classical  tradi- 
tion throughout  the  nineteenth  century.  For  there  was  no 
decided  break  between  the  Romantic  Period  and  the  Vic- 
torian Period,  although  there  was  a  certain  growth  toward 
a  more  complete  and  scholarly  understanding  and  apprecia- 
tion of  Greek  and  Latin.  It  was  still  a  question  of  indi- 
vidual judgment,  but  it  was  the  judgment  of  the  individual 
trained  in  a  scholarly  method  of  historical  criticism.  Edu^ 
cation  was  no  longer  the  privilege  of  a  small  circle,  but 
was  rapidly  becoming  the  right  of  all  men,  and  the  reading 
pubUc  was  growing  apace.  It  is  an  indication  of  the  wide- 
spread interest  in  the  classics,  that  translations  of  the  master- 
pieces of  Greek  and  Latin  literature  were  issued  in  cheap 
form,  evidently  intended  to  meet  the  needs  and  desires  of 
those  whose  curiosity  about  them  was  great,  but  whose 
scholarship  was  not  equal  to  reading  them  in  the  original. 

With  the  growing  complexity  of  the  life  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  however,  and  the  multiplication  of  interests,  es- 
pecially in  view  of  the  industrial  changes  that  were  taking 
place  with  such  bewildering  rapidity  and  all  the  altera- 
tions in  the  modes  of  life  and  thought  that  these  involved, 
the  classics  were  in  a  measure  elbowed  out  of  much  of  the 
literature  of  the  period.  Some  writers,  like  Matthew  Arnold, 
took  refuge  in  the  past,  and  tried  to  find  in  the  classics  or 

212 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  213 

in  the  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages  a  protection  from 
the  assaults  of  modern  materialism.  Others  dealt  frankly 
with  the  new  problems,  and  ignored  the  old  subjects  for 
poetry.  Still  others,  as  Shelley  had  done  already,  used 
the  classics  and  stories  derived  from  them  for  the  purpose 
of  discussing  the  modern  questions  in  an  indirect  manner. 
But  the  knowledge  of  the  classics  runs  like  an  undertone 
through  almost  all  of  the  literature  of  the  time,  expressed 
or  unexppssed.  The  day  of  merely  formal  imitation  for 
the  form's  sake  is  gone;  the  day  of  sympathetic  and  for 
the  most  part  scholarly  interpretation  and  use  of  the  classics 
for  all  the  various  purposes  which  an  author  of  the  many- 
sided  Victorian  Period  set  before  him,  has  come. 

The  popularity  of  Greek  continued,  and  the  word  classi- 
cism, used  in  connection  with  the  latter  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  immediately  suggests  the  thought  of 
Swinburne's  Atalanta  in  Calydon,  of  Arnold's  Merope,  of 
Tennyson's  Ulysses,  and  of  Browmng's  Aristophanes'  Apology. 
Vergil  no  longer  retained  his  place  as  the  best  of  poets; 
his  work  was  no  longer  the  chief  literary  influence  on  the 
poetry  of  the  time.  And  yet  he  was  generally  known  and 
loved,  loved  greatly  by  many  men,  and  perhaps  more  wisely 
than  ever  before.  Poets  and  critics  had  ceased  to  assert 
that  the  Aeneid  was  greater  than  the  Iliad  and  the  Eclogues 
finer  than  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus.  At  the  same  time 
they  were  beginning  to  apply  a  more  historical  method  of 
criticism  and  to  lay  by  the  severe  attacks  upon  Vergil's 
poetry  for  its  artificiality.  They  were  coming  to  see  that 
comparisons  of  Vergil  to  Homer  or  Theocritus  or  Lucretius 
or  Ovid  were  futile  and  worse  than  futile,  for  they  blinded 
the  critic  to  the  fact  that  all  these  poets  were  distinguished 
for  different  qualities,  each  important  in  its  way,  and  that 
there  was  no  real  or  useful  comparison  to  be  made  between 
them.     Vergil  was  admired  for  what  he  was  rather  than 


214  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

criticized  for  what  he  might  have  been.  They  might  con- 
tinue to  prefer  to  read  one  writer  rather  than  another,  and 
in  general  the  Victorians  preferred  the  Greeks,  but  the 
days  of  Hterary  dictatorship,  when  one  man  or  one  group 
of  men  said,  "This  poet  only  shall  be  admired  and  imitated," 
were  gone,  it  is  to  be  hoped  never  to  return.  Vergil  was 
now  standing  on  his  own  feet,  judged  by  his  own  merits, 
not  according  to  "rules"  nor  yet  according  to  the  capricious 
Ukes  or  dislikes  of  a  Romantic  opponent  of  "the  artificial." 
After  standing  so  long  in  the  blaze  of  two  fires,  kindled  by 
the  zeal  of  the  pseudo-classicists  and  of  those  who  repre- 
sented the  other  extreme  of  license  in  poetry  as  a  reaction 
against  their  dictates,  he  was  at  last  free  to  bask  in  the 
warmth  of  a  tolerant  and  sympathetic  criticism,  which  took 
his  work  much  as  a  matter  of  course,  with  never  a  thought 
of  discarding  him  from  the  equipment  necessary  for  a  basis 
for  the  culture  of  every  well-educated  man.  The  classics 
still  formed  the  main  part  of  the  school  training  of  the 
majority  of  boys. 

A  knowledge  of  his  work  was  necessary  above  all  for  any 
man  who  intended  to  lead  a  pubhc  life  in  the  nineteenth 
century.  Latin  quotations  rolled  from  the  tongues  of 
Parliamentary  orators  with  as  much  ease  as  English  verses, 
and  it  was  understood  that  their  auditors  comprehended 
what  was  said  in  that  ancient  tongue  with  equal  facility. 
In  the  words  of  a  modern  critic  speaking  of  Vergil,^  "No 
Englishman  should  be  indifferent  to  a  writer  who  has  been 
quoted  by  illustrious  Englishmen  in  every  crisis  of  modern 
history,  by  Walpole  and  Pulteney,  by  Carteret  and  Chatham, 
by  Fox  and  Pitt,  by  Gladstone  and  Lowe,  by  the  most  emi 
nent  statesmen  in 

*  Herbert  Paul,  Men  and  Letters:   The  Claaaical  Poems  of  Tennyson, 
and  The  Decay  of  Classical  Quotation. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  215 

the  northern  island, 
Sundered  once  from  all  the  human  race, 
Toto  divisos  orbe  Britannos.'^ 

And  in  another  essay  he  says,  "In  1866  Mr.  Gladstone  and 
Mr.  Lowe,  both  as  good  scholars  as  Peel,  almost  exhausted 
the  second  book  of  the  Aeneid,  and  left  the  Trojan  horse 
without  a  leg  to  stand  on.  Vergil  was  treated  as  if  he  had 
been  a  living  writer  of  dispatches,  instead  of  a  poet  whose 
language  was  no  longer  spoken,  and  who  had  been  dead 
nearly  nineteen  hundred  years." 

While  any  detailed  consideration  of  Victorian  prose  is 
outside  the  scope  of  this  book,  it  is  significant  of  the 
widespread  knowledge  of  Vergil  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
prose  writer  of  the  period  who  does  not  quote  him  or  allude 
to  him  at  some  time.  Dickens,  whose  books,  according  to 
his  biographer,  contain  not  one  allusion  to  the  classics,  is 
the  exception  among  novelists,  for  George  Eliot  quotes 
Vergil,  and  Thackeray's  stories  are  full  of  allusions  and 
references  and  citations.  Andrew  Lang,  whose  name  in 
connection  with  the  classics  will  always  be  associated  with 
Homer,  says  that  he  does  not  Uke  much  of  Vergil's  poetry .^ 
"Yet,"  he  continues,  "must  Virgil  always  appear  to  us 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  moving  figures  in  the  whole 
of  literature.  How  sweet  must  have  been  that  personality 
which  can  still  win  our  affections,  across  eighteen  hundred 
years  of  change,  and  through  the  mists  of  commentaries, 
and  school-books,  and  traditions!"  He  charges  his  poetry 
with  the  old  romantic  condemnation  of  ''imitative."  But 
he  especially  admires  the  Georgics,  "when  the  poet  is  car- 
ried away  into  naturalness  by  the  passion  for  his  native  land, 
by  the  longing  for  peace  after  cruel  wars,  by  the  joy  of  a 
country  life."  He  translates  the  passage  in  the  second 
2  Letters  on  Literature;  On  Virgil. 


216  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

Georgic  in  which  Vergil  expresses  his  longing  for  a  quiet  con- 
templative life,  free  from  public  cares,  and  adds,  "It  is  in 
passages  of  this  temper  that  Virgil  wins  us  most,  when  he 
speaks  for  himself  and  for  his  age,  so  distant,  and  so  weary, 
and  so  modern;  when  his  own  thought,  unborrowed  and 
unforced,  is  wedded  to  the  music  of  his  own  unsurpassable 
style."  He  says  the  Aeneid  is  *'a  beautiful  empty  world, 
where  no  real  life  stirs,  a  world  that  shines  with  a  silver 
lustre  not  its  own,  but  borrowed  from  'the  sun  of  Greece.'" 
The  poet  is  himself  only  here  and  there,  in  the  Dido  episode, 
and  in  passages  of  reflection  and  description,  "as  in  the 
beautiful  sixth  book.*' 

It  did  not  need  the  phenomenal  memory  of  Macaulay 
in  those  days  to  bear  enough  of  Vergil's  hexameters  in  mind 
to  use  them  on  occasion,  although  it  must  be  admitted  that 
probably  few  men  would  have  undertaken,  as  Macaulay 
did,  to  amuse  themselves  as  they  walked  home  from  the 
House  of  Commons  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  by  trans- 
lating Vergil.  Macaulay  manifested  his  famiUarity  with 
the  Aeneid  also  in  his  amusing  Prophetic  Account  of  a  Grand 
National  Epic  Poem,  to  he  entitled  "  The  Wellingtoniad/^  and 
to  he  puhlished  A.D.  2824,  many  of  the  incidents  of  which 
are  burlesques  of  the  narrative  of  Vergil's  poem. 

These  are  two  phases  of  the  appeal  of  Vergil  to  individuals 
in  the  Victorian  period,  and  Matthew  Arnold  represents  still 
another.  He  sums  up  his  own  feeling  toward  him  in  his 
Essay  on  Joubert,  in  connection  with  a  remark  of  Joubert's 
that  coupled  the  names  of  Vergil  and  Racine.  "And  indeed 
there  is  something  supreme  in  an  elegance  which  exercises 
such  a  fascination  as  Virgil's  does;  which  makes  one  return 
to  his  poems  again  and  again,  long  after  one  thinks  one 
has  done  with  them;  which  makes  them  one  of  those  books 
that,  to  use  Joubert's  words,  'lure  the  reader  back  to  them, 
as  the  proverb  says  good  wine  lures  back  the  wine-bibber.' 


TENNYSON   AND  THE  VICTORIANS  217 

And  the  highest  praise  Joubert  can  at  last  find  for  Racine 
is  this,  that  he  is  the  Virgil  of  the  ignorant." 

Arnold's  prose  gives  ample  evidence  of  his  acquaintance 
with  Vergil  in  reference  and  allusion,  but  the  Latin  poet 
has  left  little  impress  upon  his  poetry.  Sohrab  and  Rustum 
is  modeled  on  Homer  rather  than  Vergil,  and  is  to  be  com- 
pared with  the  Aeneid  only  in  things  like  epic  similes,  which 
are  common  to  both  the  classic  poets.  Except  for  the 
manuscript  and  translation  of  Vergil,  William  Morris  gives 
no  indication  of  Vergilian  influence,  all  his  classical  material 
coming  to  him  by  way  of  the  Greek,  and  the  Rossettis  are 
far  from  Vergilian.  Swinburne's  tastes  are  almost  exclu- 
sively Greek.  Clough's  Vacation  Pastoral  has  lines  from  the 
Eclogues  for  its  jnottoes,  and  the  last  verse  of  the  tenth 
Bucolic  of  Vergil  serves  as  the  title  of  one  of  his  poems,  and 
similar  conditions  may  be  found  in  the  work  of  many  a 
Victorian  poet.  Thus  the  poetry  of  the  period  in  general 
shows  no  marked  Vergilian  influence,  although  the  knowl- 
edge of  his  work  is  implicit  in  nearly  all  of  it. 

Robert  Browning  is  a  rather  interesting  exception.  His. 
wife's  classical  bent  was  almost  entirely  Greek.  In  her 
Vision  of  the  Poets,  she  speaks  thus  of  Vergil,  the  only  ex~ 
tended  mention  of  him  in  her  poems: 

And  Virgil;  shade  of  Mantuan  beech 
Did  help  the  shade  of  bay  to  reach 

And  knit  around  his  forehead  high; 

For  his  gods  wore  less  majesty 

Than  his  brown  bees  hummed  deathlessly. 

The  lawyers  in  the  Ring  and  the  Book  quote  Vergil  fre- 
quently, and  in  two  definite  ways  Browning  shows  Vergilian 
influence.  His  only  direct  use  of  the  Latin  poet  is  in  his 
poem,  Pan  and  Luna,  which  is  an  elaboration  of  three  lines 


218  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

in  the  third  Georgic,^  "a  bold  rerendering  of  the  myth  that 
Vergil  enshrines/'  as  Stopford  Brooke  calls  it.  But  more 
interesting  than  this  is  an  anecdote  told  by  Joaquin  Miller, 
which  illustrates  the  fact  that  for  many  nineteenth  century 
critics,  it  was  the  meter  and  style  of  Vergil  that  seemed  his 
chief  call  to  fame.  Not  many  would  go  as  far  as  Coleridge 
and  assert  that  there  was  nothing  else  of  value  in  his  verse, 
but  many  agree  that  the  molding  of  a  perfect  meter  and 
the  use  of  a  nearly  faultless  diction  are  his  greatest  achieve- 
ments. Joaquin  Miller  tells  that  he  was  invited  by  the 
Archbishop  of  Dublin  to  meet  Browning  and  some  other 
friends.  "Two  of  the  Archbishop's  beautiful  daughters 
had  been  riding  in  the  park  with  the  Earl  of  Aberdeen, 
'And  did  you  gallop? '  asked  Browning  of  the  younger  beauty. 
*I  galloped,  Joyce  galloped,  we  galloped  all  three.'  Then 
we  all  laughed  at  the  happy  and  hearty  retort,  and  Browning, 
beating  the  time  and  clang  of  galloping  horses'  feet  on  the 
table  with  his  fingers,  repeated  the  exact  measure  in  Latin 
from  Virgil;  and  the  Archbishop  laughingly  took  it  up, 
in  Latin,  where  he  left  off.  I  then  told  Browning  I  had 
an  order  —  it  was  my  first  —  for  a  poem  from  the  Oxford 
Magazine,  and  would  Uke  to  borrow  the  measure  and  spirit 
of  his  'Good  News'  for  a  prairie  fire  on  the  plains,  driving 
buffalo  and  all  other  life  before  it  into  a  river.  'Why  not 
borrow  from  Virgil  as  I  did?  He  is  as  rich  £is  one  of  your 
gold  mines,  while  I  am  but  a  poor  scribe.'"  *  And  indeed 
the  rhythm  and  movement  of  the  Good  News,  allowing  for 
the  actual  difference  in  the  meter,  is  much  like  that  of 
certain  passages  in  Vergil.  Perhaps  the  line  that  Browning 
quoted  to  illustrate  his  measure  was  the  famous 

quadripedante  putrem  sonitu  quatit  ungula  campum, 

»  Georg.  3.  391-3. 

*  The  Complete  Poetical  Works  of  Joaquin  Miller.  San  Francisco, 
1897,  p.  59.  This  anecdote  is  told  in  a  note  on  the  poem,  Kit  Caraon'g 
Ride,  which  is  written  in  Browning's  meter. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  219 

or  that  verse  which  describes  Salmoneus, 

demens  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fuhnen 
aere  et  cornipedum  pulsu  simularet  equorum. 

(Aen.  6.  590-1) 

In  the  nineteenth  century  there  have  been  almost  innumer- 
able translations  of  the  works  of  Vergil,  a  clear  indication 
of  the  universal  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  his  poetry. 
They  have  been  rendered  chiefly  into  blank  verse,  although 
English  hexameters  and  even  the  Spenserian  stanza  have 
been  used.  Of  these,  the  work  of  R.  and  C.  R.  Kennedy,  of 
John  Conington,  whose  monumental  edition  of  Vergil  is  the 
most  scholarly  yet  produced  in  English,  of  C.  P.  Cranch  in 
America,  and  of  J.  W.  Mackail,  deserves  especial  mention. 
The  last  of  these,  the  work  of  a  man  who  has  written  much 
and  with  profound  sympathy  on  classical  subjects,  is  par- 
ticularly satisfactory,  especially  his  prose  version.  It  is 
not  so  much  the  work  of  professed  classical  scholars 
that  we  are  interested  in,  however,  as  that  of  men 
whose  names  loom  large  in  English  poetry.  Words- 
worth translated  a  part  of  the  Aeneid,  and  thereby  incurred 
the  criticism  of  Coleridge,  and  late  in  life  he  published  a 
small  portion  of  it.  Cowper  and  Shelley  also  translated 
certain  small  sections  of  Vergil's  work.  Dpubtless  many 
a  poet  tried  his  schoolboy  hand  at  a  version  of  some  lines 
of  Vergil,  as  did  some  of  our  American  men  of  letters.  But 
the  most  ambitious  attempt  of  the  nineteenth  century  was 
the  translation  of  the  Aeneid  into  rhymed  fourteeners  by 
William  Morris.  "^^ 

Morris  was  primarily  a  student  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
his  treatment  of  classical  subjects  conformed  to  the  mediae- 
val method.  It  is  a  question  which  can  never  be  settled 
just  how  he  would  have  handled  the  story  of  Aeneas  if  he 
had  used  it  as  a  subject  for  original,  independent  treatment. 


220  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

His  tendency  would  probably  have  been  in  the  directioii 
of  Chaucer  and  the  author  of  the  Eneas;  but  as  it  was,  he 
confined  himself  to  the  limits  of  a  translation. 

His  first  approach  to  Vergil  was  made  in  an  essentially 
mediaeval  fashion.  The  stupendous  task  of  making  a  manu- 
script of  the  Aeneid,  as  he  had  of  the  Icelandic  sagas,  Omar 
Khayyam,  and  Horace,  was  half  completed  in  the  years 
1874-1875.  It  was  written  out  through  the  sixth  book, 
with  the  exception  of  a  few  lines  at  the  close.  The  work 
was  done  on  vellum,  and  the  pages  were  to  be  most  elabor- 
ately decorated  with  borders  and  initials  in  gold  and  colors, 
and  ornaments  with  figures  in  the  text.  Twelve  half-page 
drawings  were  made  by  Bume-Jones,  but  the  great  floriated 
letters  in  gold  and  colors  were  Morris'  own  work. 

Although  the  manuscript  was  left  incomplete,  it  had  its 
fruit  in  an  interest  which  imposed  upon  Morris  a  task  fully 
as  great  as  that  of  reproducing  the  original  Latin.  "As 
to  my  illumination  work,"  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Murray  in 
March,  1875,  "it  don't  get  on  just  now,  not  because  I  shouldn't 
like  to  be  at  it,  but  because  I  am  doing  something  else  with 
Virgil,  to  wit,  doing  him  into  Enghsh  verse:  I  have  got 
toward  the  end  of  the  seventh  book,  and  shall  finish  the 
whole  thing  and  have  it  out  by  the  beginning  of  June,  I 
hope."  He  had  begun  the  work  in  the  preceding  December, 
and  made  daily  notes  of  his  progress,  recording  for  fourteen 
weeks  the  number  of  lines  completed  each  day.  He  did  not 
finish  the  translation  as  soon  as  he  had  hoped,  however;  it 
was  not  until  November  4,  1875,  that  he  could  write  in  a 
letter  to  Mr.  Murray,  "The  Virgil  translation  published 
to-day."  But  the  completion  of  nearly  ten  thousand  fines 
in  about  eleven  months  necessitated  rapid  work.  Accord- 
ing to  his  record,  the  smallest  number  of  lines  that  he  trans- 
lated in  one  week  was  three  hundred  and  fifteen,  the  largest, 
six  hundred  and  thirty-five. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  221 

As  was  natural,  the  translation  aroused  much  criticism, 
both  favorable  and  adverse.  It  was  the  work  of  a  man  who 
was  in  no  sense  a  classical  scholar,  and  it  approached  Vergil 
from  a  side  new  to  the  Victorian  Latinists.  The  translator 
was  evidently  a  man  who  knew  Vergil  and  loved  the  story- 
he  told,  but  loved  it  with  the  affection  of  a  mediaeval  writer 
of  romance  rather  than  that  of  a  nineteenth  century  stu- 
dent. His  attitude  was  definitely  a  romantic  one,  tinged 
with  the  ideas  of  the  Middle  Ages.  J.  W.  Mackail,  in  his 
Life  of  William  Morris,  defends  this  attitude.^  On  the 
other  hand,  Andrew  Lang  called  both  manner  and  method 
mistaken.  Other  critics  have  taken  a  more  moderate 
stand,  and  half  blamed,  half  praised. 

For  myself,  it  is  a  great  temptation  to  use  the  hackneyed 
but  still  expressive  words,  and  say  that  it  is  a  very  pretty 
poem,  but  not  Vergil.  Nothing  could  be  more  literal  than 
Morris'  rendering  of  the  Latin.  The  translation  follows 
the  original  almost  line  for  line.  In  fact,  in  all  but  two 
of  the  books,  the  number  of  verses  in  the  Latin  and  in  the 
English  is  the  same,  and  in  those  two  exceptions,  the  differ- 
ence is  only  one  line.  He  even  keeps  the  half-lines,  a  fact 
which  shows  with  what  scrupulous  care  he  clung  to  the 
original.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  this  fidelity,  the  spirit  of  the 
lines  is  changed.  Any  effort  to  transport  bodily  a  great  work 
of  literature  from  antiquity  to  modern  times,  and  then  to 
deck  it  out  in  the  garments  which  belong  to  still  another 
tradition,  is  robing,  as  it  were,  the  Venus  de  Milo  in  hoop- 
skirts  or  putting  a  mansard  roof  on  the  Parthenon. 

The  mediaeval  flavor  is  on  almost  every  page  of  the  trans- 
lation.    The  arguments  of  the  books  furnish  good  examples, 

^  "He  vindicated  the  claim  of  the  romantic  school  to  a  joint  owner- 
ship with  the  classicists  in  the  poem  which  is  not  only  the  crowning 
achievement  of  classical  Latin,  but  the  fountain-head  of  romanticism 
in  European  literature."     Vol.  I.  p.  322. 


222  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

especially  that  of  the  fourth:  ** Herein  is  told  of  the  great 
love  of  Dido,  Queen  of  Carthage,  and  the  woeful  ending  of 
her."  One  is  tempted  to  use  the  spelling  of  Dan  Chaucer. 
And  almost  any  passage,  chosen  at  random,  will  furnish  an 
illustration,  as  this  from  the  second  book,  where  Aeneas 
is  endeavoring  to  persuade  his  father  to  fly  with  him  from 
the  doomed  city: 

And  didst  thou  hope,  O  father,  then  that  thou  being  left  behind, 
My  foot  would  fare?      Woe  worth  the  word  that  in  thy  mouth  I 

find! 
But  if  the*  gods  are  loth  one  whit  of  such  a  town  to  save, 
And  thou  with  constant  mind  wilt  cast  in  djdng  Troy-town's 

grave 
Both  thee  and  thine,  wide  is  the  door  to  wend  adown  such  ways; 
For  Pyrrhus,  red  with  Priam's  blood,  is  hard  at  hand,  who  slays 
The  son  before  the  father's  face,  the  father  slays  upon 
The  altar.    Holy  Mother,  then,  for  this  thou  ledst  me  on 
Through  fire  and  sword!  —  that  I  might  see  our  house  filled  with 

the  foe. 
My  father  old,  Ascanius,  Creusa  lying  low. 
All  weltering  in  each  other's  blood,  and  murdered  wretchedly. 
Anns,  fellows,  arms!  the  last  day's  light  on  vanquished  men  doth 

cry. 
Ah!  give  me  to  the  Greeks  again,  that  I  may  play  the  play 
Another  while:  not  unavenged  shall  all  we  die  to-day.* 

The  reiy  proper  names,^such  as  "Palinure,"  sometimes  take 
on  a  strange  mediaeval  spelling,  and  the  use  of  quaint 
archaic  words  adds  to  the  effect.  Instances  might  be 
multiplied  almost  indefinitely,  but  a  few  will  sufl&ce,  such 
as  the  translation  of  dux  by  **Duke,"  pono  by  ''streak," 
draco  by  ''worm,"  hello  clari  by  "mighty  under  shield," 
senecttis  by  "Eld,"  sterno  by  "spill,"  and  infesta  pinus 
by  "fir  of  fight." 

•  Aen.  2.  667-670. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  223 

The  meter,  the  old  rhymed  "fourteener/'  the  suggestion 
for  which  Morris  may  have  taken  from  Chapman  or  Phaer, 
approaches  the  statehness  of  the  original,  but  is  very  monot- 
onous. It  lacks  the  variety  of  the  VergiUan  hexameters, 
and  frequently  misses  entirely  metrical  effects  which  com- 
mand admiration  in  the  Latin. 

The  exigencies  of  the  rhyme,  added  to  the  closeness  of 
the  translation,  are  probably  responsible  for  many  of  the 
awkward  inversions,  clumsy  expressions,  bad  rhythms,  and 
incoherent  lines,  as  well  as  for  the  constant  use  of  "do" 
as  an  auxiliary  verb,  and  of  prepositional  phrases  instead 
of  the  possessive  pronoun,  such  as  ''hand  of  him."  Many 
of  these  rough  places  might  have  been  smoothed  had  Morris 
taken  more  time  for  the  polishing  of  his  translation.  The 
rapidity  with  which  he  turned  out  his  lines  allowed  such 
verses  as  the  following  to  pass  unchallenged  by  his  own 
critical  judgment : 

Aeneas  caught  upon  the  pass  the  door-ward's  slumber  gave, 
or 

O'ertopped  by  Ida,  unto  those  Troy's  outcasts  happy  sign, 

or  the  really  wretched  opening  Unes  of  the  ninth  book. 
Nor  did  it  give  time  to  eUminate  awkward  repetitions,  which 
have  no  model  in  the  original,  such  as  "how  great  doth  great 
Orion  sweep,"  or  "Venus  sore  at  heart  for  her  sore-wounded 
son."  The  obscurity  of  some  of  his  verses  is  equal  to  that 
in  Browning's  Agamemnon,  of  which  one  critic  said  that  he 
needed  the  Greek  in  order  to  understand  the  English.  Of 
actual  errors  there  are  very  few;  in  a  few  instances  Morris 
has  added  something  in  translation  which  gives  a  tone 
different  from  that  of  the  original,  but  such  alterations 
are  rare. 

While  the  translation  on  the  whole  is  a  poor  translation, 
it  does  not  lack  good  qualities.    Its  fideUty  to  the  Latin 


224  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

is  a  great  merit,  and  there  are  passages  which  for  dignity 
and  simplicity  may  be  favorably  compared  with  the  Latin. 
The  passion  in  Dido's  prayer  for  vengeance  rises  nearly  to 
the  elevation  of  Vergil's  powerful  lines,  and  the  spirit  of 
Aeneas'  words  is  admirably  caught  in  the  simile. 

As  when  before  the  furious  South  the  driven  flame  doth  fall 
Among  the  corn :  or  like  as  when  the  hill-flood  rolls  in  haste 
To  waste  the  fields  and  acres  glad,  the  oxen's  toil  to  waste, 
Tearing  the  headlong  woods  along,  while  high  upon  a  stone 
The  unready  shepherd  stands  amazed,  and  hears  the  sound  come 
on.^ 

But  among  all  the  poets  of  this  period,  there  was  only 
one  who  caught  the  real  spirit  of  Vergil  and  enshrined  it  in 
his  verse.  The  others  touched  him  here  and  there,  admired 
and  borrowed  his  rhythm  or  a  quotable  line  or  two.  But 
Tennyson  comprehended  all  the  phases  of  his  genius  and 
remains  today  the  best  interpreter  of  Vergil  among  the 
English  men  of  letters.  Andrew  Lang,  writing  about 
Vergil  in  his  Letters  on  Literature^  which  have  already  been 
quoted,  said,  ''There  will  come  no  other  Virgil,  unless  his 
soul,  in  accordance  with  his  own  philosophy,  is  among  us 
to-day,  crowned  with  years  and  honours,  the  singer  of 
'  Ulysses,'  of  the  '  Lotos  Eaters,'  of '  Tithonus,'  and  '  Oenone.' " 

Much  has  been  said  and  written  about  the  resemblances 
between  Tennyson  and  Vergil,  and  about  the  indebtedness 
of  the  English  poet  to  his  Roman  predecessor.  "Some  one 
once  called  me  the  English  Virgil,"  said  Tennyson  himself 
with  evident  pleasure.  Indeed  more  than  one  has  done 
so.  In  1875,  in  an  article  in  Macmillan's  Magazine,  the 
Reverend  R.  D.  B.  Rawnsley,  signing  himself  ''A  Lincoln- 
shire Rector,"  emphasized  by  means  of  copious  quotations 
the  similarities  between  the  two  in  their  faculty  of  observing 
natural  phenomena,  their  love  of  the  sea,  their  joy  in  the 
»  Aen.  2.  304-308. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  225 

pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  their  tenderness,  their 
melancholy,  their  philosophy,  and  their  style.  In  1891 
was  published  a  book  called  Illustrations  of  Tennysoriy^ 
by  Churton  Collins,  the  threefold  purpose  of  which,  according 
to  the  Preface,  was  to  trace  in  Tennyson's  poems  the  imi- 
tations of  and  transferences  from  other  authors,  to  illus- 
trate his  poems,  and  to  point  out  the  connection  between 
ancient  and  modern  hterature.  Of  this  book,  the  entire 
first  chapter  is  devoted  to  a  comparison  between  the  style 
of  Vergil  and  that  of  Tennyson.  After  a  detailed  discus- 
sion of  the  similarities  between  them,  with  many  examples 
to  prove  his  point,  the  author  sums  up  his  remarks  with 
the  following  vigorous  statement:  "In  a  word,  the  diction 
of  Tennyson  is,  in  its  essential  characteristics,  as  nearly  the 
exact  counterpart  to  that  of  Virgil  as  it  is  possible  for  verbal 
expression  in  one  language  to  be  the  counterpart  of  that  in 
another."  Ten  years  later,  in  an  unsigned  article  in  the 
Quarterly  Review  for  January,  1901,  an  elaborate  parallel 
is  drawn  between  the  lives  of  the  two  men,  after  the  manner 
of  Plutarch.  And  not  only  does  the  writer  set  forth  the 
resemblances  in  the  events  in  their  lives,  as  far  as  we  are 
able  to  compare  them  in  view  of  our  scanty  knowledge  about 
Vergil,  but  he  carries  out  the  comparison  to  include  the 
similarities  in  their  character,  their  method  of  work,  their 
personal  appearance,  their  attitude  toward  critics  and  the 
attitude  of  critics  toward  them,  their  conceptions  of  their 
epic  heroes,  their  philosophy,  their  knowledge  of  nature, 
their  patriotism,  their  scholarship,  and  their  language. 

These  comparisons  are  interesting  chiefly  because  they 
show  why  the  work  and  personality  of  Vergil  so  strongly 
attracted  Tennyson.  But  all  these  reasons,  all  the  points  of 
sympathetic  contact,  which  have  here  been  elaborated  with 

'  Some  of  this  material  had  already  been  published  in  the  Comhill 
Magazine. 


226  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

such  pains,  are  to  be  found  in  the  clearest  and  simplest  of 
*v-^  ^  forms  in  the  poem  To  Vergil,  which  Tennyson  wrote  at  the 
request  of  the  Mantuans  for  the  nineteenth  centenary  of 
the  Roman  poet's  death. 

Roman  Virgil,  thou  that  singest  Ilion's  lofty  temples  robed  in  fire, 
Ilion  falling,  Rome  arising,  wars,  and  filial  faith,  and  Dido's  pjn-e; 

Landscape-lover,  lord  of  language,  more  than  he  that  sang  the 

Works  and  Days, 
All  the  chosen  coin  of  fancy  flashing  out  from  many  a  golden  phrase; 

Thou  that  singest  wheat  and  woodland,  tilth  and  vineyard,  hive 

and  horse  and  herd; 
All  the  charm  of  all  the  Muses  often  flowering  in  a  lonely  word; 

Poet  of  the  happy  Tityrus  piping  underneath  his  beechen  bowers; 
Poet  of  the  poet-satyr  whom  the  laughing  shepherd  bound  with 
flowers; 

Chanter  of  the  PoUio,  glorying  in  the  blissful  years  again  to  be. 
Summers  of  the  snakeless  meadow,  unlaborious  earth  and  earless 
sea; 

Thou  that  seest  Universal  Nature  moved  by  Universal  Mind; 
Thou  majestic  in  thy  sadness  at  the  doubtful  doom  of  human  kind; 

Light  among  the  vanished  ages;  star  that  gildest  yet  this  phantom 

shore; 
Golden  branch  amid  the  shadows,  kings  and  realms  that  pass  to 

rise  no  more; 

Now  thy  Fonun  roars  no  longer,  fallen  every  purple  Caesar's 

dome  — 
Tho'  thine  ocean-roll  of  rhythm  sound  forever  of  Imperial  Rome  — 

Now  the  Rome  of  slaves  hath  perish 'd,  and  the  Rome  of  freemen 

holds  her  place, 
I,  from  out  the  Northern  Island,  sunder'd  once  from  all  the  human 

race, 

I  salute  thee,  Mantovano,  I  that  loved  thee  since  my  day  began, 
Wielder  of  the  stateliest  measure  ever  moulded  by  the  lips  of  man. 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  227 

Many  have  called  this  one  of  the  most  perfect  of  Tenny- 
son's poems.  Certainly  there  is  no  other  appreciation  of 
the  work  and  genius  of  Vergil  which  is  more  satisfying  to 
a  lover  of  the  Mantuan  poet,  or  gives  him  more  delight. 
Not  only  does  it  show  at  its  highest  that  rare  sympathy 
of  Tennyson's  with  the  'Vanished  ages,"  but  it  proves  his 
abihty  to  pick  out  those  qualities,  those  gifts,  those  pur- 
poses in  the  Roman  which  are  really  significant.  Contrast 
this  method  of  criticism  with  that  of  Landor,  and  see  what 
a  different  Vergil  we  have.  There  is  the  poet  who  reached 
the  lowest  depths  of  poor  versification  in  his  description  of 
Winter;   here  is  he  who  is  ''lord  of  language,"  with 

All  the  chosen  coin  of  fancy  flashing  out  in  many  a  golden  phrase. 

There  is  the  author  of  the  "most  mis-shapen  of  epics;" 
here  is  he  whose  "ocean-roll  of  rhythm  sounds  forever  of 
Imperial  Rome."  Granting  that  Vergil  did  not  have 
time  to  perfect  his  Aeneid  as  he  would  have  wished,  the 
question  is,  where  the  emphasis  should  be  placed.  Is  it 
fairer  to  Vergil  to  remember  him  as  a  writer  guilty  of  in- 
congruities, bathos,  incoherence,  and  puerilities,  or  as  the 

Light  among  the  vanished  ages;  star  that  gildest  yet  this  phantom 

shore; 
Golden  branch  amid  the  shadows,  kings  and  realms  that  pass  to 

rise  no  more? 

Surely  Vergil  finds  his  true  interpreter  in  Tennyson  rather 
than  in  Landor;  Tennyson  loved  him  since  his  day  began. 
He  loved  him  and  knew  him.  The  ode  is  almost  a  transla- 
tion, not  of  the  poems  of  Vergil,  but  of  that  personality 
which  was  the  aspect  of  the  Roman  poet  which  most  power- 
fully attracted  Andrew  Lang.  As  Frederick  W.  H.  Myers 
has  said,  "Apart  from  the  specific  allusions,  almost  every 
phrase  recalls  some  intimate  magic,  some  incommunicable 


228  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

fire."  '  The  praise  is  not  merely  verbal  and  perfunctory; 
it  rests  on  a  firm  foundation  of  thorough  knowledge.  When 
Tennyson  was  asked  what  he  meant  by  the  "lonely  word," 
he  gave  as  an  example  the  well-known  cundantem  ramum, 
which  has  been  so  frequently  assailed  by  critics  of  Vergil. 
But  Tennyson  was  right,  for  it  is  actually  one  of  the  most 
remarkably  significant  phrases  in  the  whole  Aeneid,  in  its 
suggestion  of  Aeneas*  eager  haste. 

But  perhaps  even  more  than  the  *  landscape-lover," 
or  the  ''chanter  of  the  PolUo,"  or  even  the  "Ught  among 
the  vanished  ages,"  Vergil  was  to  Tennyson  the 

Wielder  of  the  stateliest  measure  ever  moulded  by  the  Ups  of  man. 

This  very  Ode  is  Tennyson's  most  successful  attempt  to 
approach  the  "ocean-roll  of  rhythm"  of  the  Latin.  His 
friends  bear  witness  to  the  deUght  he  took  in  reading  or 
reciting  favorite  hexameters.  "He  was  perpetually  quoting 
Homer  and  Vergil,"  wrote  Henry  Graham  Dakyns,^**  "and 
to  my  mind  there  was  nothing  for  grandeur  of  sound  Uke 
his  pronunciation  of  Latin  and  Greek  as  he  recited  whole 
passages  or  single  lines  in  illustration  of  some  point,  of 
metre,  perhaps,  or  thought,  or  feeling.  .  .  .  Then  how  he 
rolled  out  his  Vergil,  giving  first  the  thunder,  then  the  wash 
of  the  sea  in  the  lines: 

fluctus  uti  medio  coepit  cum  albescere  ponto, 
longius  ex  altoque  sinum  trahit,  utque  volutus 
ad  terras  immane  sonat  per  saxa  neque  ipso 
monte  minor  procumbit,  at  ima  exaestuat  unda 
verticibus  nigramque  alte  subiectat  harenam." 

(Georg.  3.  237-41) 

•  Quoted  in  Alfred  Lord  Tennyson.  A  Memoir,  by  his  Son.  Vol.  II, 
pp.  481-4. 

^  Tennyson^  Clough,  and  the  Claaaica,  in  Tennyeon  and  hia  Friend: 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  229 

And  his  son  adds  as  other  favorite  lines  of  his  father's, 
those  sounding  ones  in  the  sixth  book  of  the  Aeneidf 

demens  qui  nimbos  et  non  imitabile  fuhnen 
aere  et  comipedum  pulsu  simularet  equorum, 
(Aen.  6.  590-1) 


and 


Romanos  rerum  dominos  gentemque  togatam. 

(Aen.  1.  282) 


In  The  Daisy  Tennyson  himself  tells  how 

we  past 
From  Como,  when  the  light  was  gray, 
And  in  my  head  for  half  the  day, 

The  rich  Virgilian  rustic  measure 
Of  Lari  Maxume,  all  the  way, 
Like  ballad-burthen  music  kept." 

Tennyson  frequently  compared  the  movement  of  Milton's 
poetry  with  that  of  Vergil's.  **  Milton  had  evidently  studied 
Virgil's  verse,"  he  said  once  to  Warren,  President  of  Mag- 
dalen, Oxford ;  and  again  in  connection  with  a  similar  remark, 
"If  Virgil  is  to  be  translated,  it  ought  to  be  in  this  elaborate 
kind  of  blank  verse."  It  is  an  interesting  commentary 
on  Tennyson's  attitude  toward  the  classics  that  he  made 
only  one  attempt  at  translation,  a  short  passage  from  the 
Iliad.  Vergil  he  did  not  try  to  render  into  English,  or  at 
least  left  no  evidence  of  ever  having  done  so.  The  condi- 
tional clause  in  the  remark  quoted  above  shows  that  he 
believed  that  the  poems  were  better  left  undisturbed  in  their 
original  tongue. 

It  is  interesting  too  that  while  he  admired  so  greatly  the 
Latin  hexameters,  he  considered  that  hexameters  in  English 

"  a.  Gcor^y.  2.159  flf. 


230  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

were  a  "barbarous  experiment.'^  He  would  probably  have 
agreed  with  Landor,  who  said,  "English  and  German  hexam- 
eters sound  as  a  heavy  cart  sounds,  bouncing  over  boul- 
ders." Tennyson  was  interested  in  making  experiments  in 
various  other  Latin  meters,  the  Alcaic,  the  hendecasyllabic, 
and  even  the  difficult  and  remarkable  galliambic.  This 
shows  how  sensitive  he  was  to  sound  and  rhythm,  and 
explains  why  the  sonorous  majesty  of  the  Vergilian  meter 
appealed  to  him  so  strongly.  But  for  his  own  dignified 
and  serious  epic  poems,  he  preferred  the  English  blank  verse, 
which  he  wielded  in  stately  fashion;  yet  he  never  equalled 
the  ocean-roll  of  the  Roman  master  of  rhythm,  except  in 
the  long  lines  of  the  Ode, 

Of  the  echoes  of  VergiUan  lines  and  phrases  which  are 
nmnerous  in  Tennyson's  poetry,  and  of  the  allusions  to  the 
Aeneid,  the  Georgics,  and  the  Eclogices,  I  wish  to  say  very 
little.  Many  of  the  parallels  were  pointed  out  by  Tennyson 
himself  in  the  notes  which  he  left  with  his  son,  who  also 
added  others.  Some  of  them  were  intentional  paraphrases 
and  translations,  such  as 

This  way  and  that  dividing  the  swift  mind; 

some  merely  accidental  parallels  or  imconscious  echoes  of 
lines  which  had  become  almost  Tennyson's  own  through 
long  familiarity  with  them.  Careful  and  complete  work 
along  this  line  has  been  done  by  Churton  Collins  in  his 
Illustrations  of  Tennyson^  published  in  1891,  and  by  W.  P. 
Mustard  in  his  Classical  Echoes  in  Tennyson,  1904,  and  to 
them  I  refer  anyone  who  is  eager  to  investigate  these  rem- 
iniscences further.  The  value  of  such  collections  is  to  em- 
phasize what  we  are  already  aware  of,  Tennyson's  love  for 
the  classics  and  his  enormous  learning.  There  are  one  or 
two  passages,  however,  striking  enough  to  warrant  mention 
here.     In  the  Idylls  of  the  King,  there  are  a  number  of 


TENNYSON  AND  THE   VICTORIANS  231 

reminiscences  of  the  Dido  episode.  Compare,  for  example, 
the  Hnes  in  Geraint  and  Enidy  which  tell  how  she 

ever  failed  to  draw 
The  quiet  night  into  her  blood, 

with  those  which  describe  the  distress  of  the  Carthaginian 
queen : 

neque  umquam 
solvitur  in  somnos  ocuHsve  aut  pectore  noctem 
accipit. 

{Aen.  4.  529-531) 

Less  close  is  the  parallel  in  the  following: 

Death  like  a  friend's  voice  from  a  distant  field 
Approaching  through  the  darkness,  call'd;  the  owls 
Wailing,  had  power  upon  her,  and  she  mixt 
Her  fancies  with  the  sallow-rifted  glooms 
Of  evening,  and  the  meanings  of  the  wind, 

where  there  are  clear  echoes  of  the  Vergilian  lines, 

hinc  exaudiri  voces  et  verba  vocantis 
visa  viri  nox  cum  terras  obscura  teneret; 
solaque  culminibus  ferali  carmine  bulbo 
saepe  queri,  et  longas  in  fletum  ducere  voces. 

(Aen.  4.  460-3) 

Most  interesting  of  all  is  the  poem  Willj  the  spirit  of  which 
is  precisely  that  of  Vergil's 

quidquid  erit,  superanda  omnis  fortuna  ferendo  est, 

(Aen.  5.  710) 

and  of  his  reported  saying,  which  rests  on  the  authority  of 
Donatus,  "that  no  virtue  is  more  useful  to  a  man  than 
patience,  and  that  there  is  no  lot  so  hard  that  a  brave  mani 


232  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

cannot  conquer  it  by  bearing  it  wisely."     Hence  Tennyson's 
strong-willed  man, 

Who  seems  a  promontory  of  rock 

That,  compressed  round  by  turbulent  sound, 

In  middle  ocean  meets  the  surging  shock 

Tempest-buffeted, 

is  fitly  described  with  the  help  of  a  simile  which  comes 
straight  from  Vergil, 

ille  velut  rupes  vastum  quae  prodit  in  aequor, 
obvia  ventorum  furiis  expostaque  ponto, 
vim  cunctam  atque  minas  perfert  caelique  marisque 
ipsa  immota  manens. 

{Aen.  10.  693-6) 

On  the  whole  the  investigation  of  the  classical  reminis- 
cences in  Tennyson  has  led  to  the  conclusion  that  he  is  more 
indebted  to  Vergil  than  to  anyone  else,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  Homer  and  Horace.  But  many  of  the  "faint 
Homeric  echoes,  nothing  worth,"  are  due  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  subjects  of  his  poems,  such  as  Oenone  and  the 
Lotos  Eaters,  and  many  of  the  Horatian  phrases  had  become 
commonplaces.  The  nature  of  the  Vergilian  echoes  more 
than  any  others  would  indicate  that  Tennyson  had  absorbed 
and  assimilated  the  Vergilian  material,  that  he  had  lived  with 
Vergil  rather  than  studied  him. 

So  it  is  quite  fitting  that  the  consideration  of  the  influ- 
ence of  Vergil  should  close  with  Tennyson,  who  is  the  last 
of  the  great  poets  of  England  to  show  in  a  decided  form  the 
effect  of  his  Vergilian  reading,  and  is  the  poet  who,  more  than 
any  other,  can  be  called  Vergilian.  It  is  not  only  the  echoes 
and  reminiscences  of  the  poems  of  Vergil  in  his  work  that 
make  him  important  in  the  history  of  the  influence  of  the 


TENNYSON  AND  THE  VICTORIANS  233 

Roman  poet  upon  the  English  writers.  It  is  the  instinc- 
tive sympathy  between  them,  the  innate  resemblance  that 
made  so  many  men  agree  in  calling  him  the  English  Vergil. 
Many  another  poet  has  been  more  imitative  of  Vergil  than 
he,  many  another  has  quoted  him  more  frequently.  But 
no  one  has  penetrated  so  deeply  into  the  Vergilian  spirit, 
and  no  one  has  expressed  it  so  fully  as  Tennyson  in  his 
poem  To  Virgil.  The  Roman  poet  takes  in  the  poetry  of 
Tennyson  somewhat  the  same  place  that  the  Bible  has 
taken  in  the  literature  of  England  for  so  many  centuries. 
One  scarcely  thinks  of  separating  the  quotations  in  either 
case  from  their  context  and  calling  attention  to  them  by 
inverted  commas. 

And  Tennyson  will  probably  be  the  last  poet  to  show 
marked  Vergilian  influence,  painful  as  the  admission  is  to  a 
lover  of  the  classics.  But  rare  is  the  man  in  these  days, 
unless  he  is  a  student  or  teacher  of  the  classics,  who  sits 
down  each  night,  as  Dr.  Johnson  did,  and  reads  through  a 
book  of  Vergil,  and  hardly  less  rare  the  writer  who  carries 
in  his  memory  more  than  a  few  of  the  most  familiar  Vergilian 
lines.  There  are  still  some  echoes  in  our  modern  prose  and 
poetry  of  famous  phrases,  like  lacrimae  rerum,  varium  et 
mutahile  semper  femina,  or  arma  virumque,  and  there  will 
continue  to  be  as  long  as  Vergil, is  read  in  school  and  college. 
But  although  a  recent  volume  of  poetry  bears  the  title, 
Per  Arnica  Silentia  Lunae^^"^  how  many  will  recognize  its 
origin?  We  shall  miss  much  of  our  inheritance  if  the  influ- 
ence of  the  classics  is  taken  from  our  future  poetry.  We 
shall  miss  more  if  we  lose  the  ability  to  feel  the  presence 
of  the  great  minds  and  spirits  of  antiquity  in  the  literature 
that  England  has  already  produced.  If  Vergil  becomes 
merely  a  name  to  the  reader  of  English  poetry,  much  of  the 

"  William  Butler  Yeats,  Per  Arnica  Silentia  Lunae.    N.  Y.,  1918. 


234  VERGIL  AND  THE  ENGLISH  POETS 

work  of  Spenser,  Milton  and  Tennyson  will  lose  its  meaning, 
if  not  its  beauty.  He  will  have  to  forego  part  of  the  poten- 
tial enjoyment  of  poetry  who  cannot  say  as  he  reads  it, 

I  salute  thee,  Mantovano,  I  that  loved  thee  since  my  day  began, 
Wielder  of  the  stateliest  measure  ever  moulded  by  the  Ups  of  man. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

I.  This  Bibliography  contains  only  such  books  as  deal  with 
the  relations  of  Vergil  to  a  certain  English  writer  or  group  of  writers. 
Other  books  of  reference  have  been  mentioned,  with  bibhographi- 
cal  information,  in  the  notes.  It  would  be  impracticable  to  in- 
clude in  the  BibUography  the  titles  of  all  the  chief  books  used  in 
connection  with  the  foregoing  discussion.  Such  a  list  would  be 
merely  an  eniuneration  of  the  works  of  the  chief  English  poets  and 
prose  writers.  The  text  of  Vergil  used  is  that  edited  by  F.  A. 
Hirtzel,  in  the  Scriptorum  Classicorum  Bibliotheca  Oxaniensis. 

Baynes,  Thomas  Spencer:  What  Shakespeare  Learnt  at  School, 
in  Shakespeare  Studies,  London  &  New  York,  1894. 

Collins,  Churton:  Illustrations  of  Tennyson,  London,  1891. 
Studies  in  Shakespeare,  Westminster,  1904.  I.  Shake- 
speare as  a  Classical  Scholar. 

CoMPARETTi,  DoMENico:  Vergil  in  the  Middle  Ages,  translated 
by  E.  F.  M.  Benecke,  London,  1895. 

Klaeber,  Fr.:  Aeneis  und  Beowulf,  in  Archiv  fur  das  Studium 
der  Neueren  Sprachen  und  Literaluren,  1911,  Band  126. 

Leland,  Charles  Godfrey:  The  Unpublished  Legends  of  Virgil, 
London,  1899. 

Long,  Omera  Floyd:  The  Attitude  of  Alcuin  toward  Vergil,  in 
Studies  in  Honor  of  B.  L.  Gildersleeve,  Johns  Hopkins  Press, 
1902. 

Mustard,  W.  P. :  Classical  Echoes  in  Tennyson,  New  York,  1904. 

(Rawnsley,  Rev.  R.  D.  B.) :  Tennyson  and  Virgil,  by  a  Lincoln- 
shire Rector,  Macmillan's  Magazine,  1875. 

Staffer,  Paul:  Shakespeare  and  Classical  Antiquity.  Trans- 
lated from  the  French  by  Emily  J.  Carey,  London,  1880. 
'^  Chapter  IV.    Shakespeare's  Classical  Knowledge. 

TuNisoN,  J.  S.:  Master  Virgil,  the  Author  of  the  Aeneid  as  he 
Seemed  in  the  Middle  Ages,  Cincinnati,  1888. 

Zappert,  Georg:  Virgils  Fortleben  im  Mittelalter,  Vienna,  1851. 

235 


236  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

II.  The  following  is  a  list  of  translations,  burlesques,  parodies, 
and  imitations  of  the  works  of  Vergil.  Those  marked  *  are  Ameri- 
can translations;  those  marked  **  have  been  discussed  in  the 
text. 

TRANSLATIONS 

Gavin  Douglas:  The  xiii  Bukes  of  Eneados  of  the  Famose  Poete 

Virgill.    1553.** 
Henry,  Earl  of  Surrey:  Certain  bokes  (II  &  IV)  of  Virgiles 

Aenaeis.    1557.** 
T.  Phaer  :  The  seven  first  bookes  of  the  Eneidos  of  Virgill.    1558.** 

The  nyne  first  Bookes  of  the  Eneidos  .  .  .  with  so  much  of 
the  tenthe  Booke,  as  since  his  death  could  be  found. 
1562. 

The  whole  xii  Bookes  of  the  Aeneidos  of  Virgill  ...  by  T. 
Phaer  ...  and  ...  T.  Twyne.    1573. 

(Other  editions,  1583,  1584,  1596,  1600,  1607,  1620.) 
Richard  Stanyhurst:  The  first  Foure  Bookes  of  Virgil  his  Aeneis, 

translated  into  English  Heroical  Verse.    1582,  1583.** 
William  Webbe:    The  first  and  second  Eclogues,  (in  his  Dis- 
course on  English  Poetrie).    1586. 
A.  F.  (Fraunce  or  Fleming)  :  TheBucoliks  of  P.  V.  M together 

with  his  Georgiks.    1589. 

The  Lamentation  of  Corydon  for  the  loss  of  Alexis.  1591. 
J.  Brinsley  :  Virgils  Eclogues,  with  his  Booke  De  Apibus.  1620. 
S.  T.  Wrothe:  The  Destruction  of  Troy,  or  the  Acts  of  Aeneas, 

translated  out  of  the  second  booke  of  the  Aeneads  of  Virgill. 

1620. 
W.  L.  (Lisle):  Virgils  Eclogues.    1628. 
T.  May:   Virgils  Georgicks.    1628. 
J.  Vicars:  The  XII  Aeneids  of  Virgil.    1632. 
G.  Sandys:  The  first  booke  of  Virgils  Aeneis.    1632. 
Sip  John  Denham:    The  Destruction  of  Troy.    1636.    (Published 

1656.) 

The  Passion  of  Dido  for  Aeneas.    (?)** 
John  Ogilby:    The  Works  of  P.  V.  M.    1649.    His  "second 

EngUsh  Virgil,"  1664.** 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  237 

E.  Waller:   Part  of  the  Fourth  Book  of  Virgil.    1657.    Later 
completed  by  Sidney  Godolphin,  and  published  1679. 

J.  Harrington:  Virgils  Aeneis,  the  third,  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth 
books.    1659. 

Sir  R.  Howard:  The  Fourth  Book  of  Virgill.    1660. 

J.  Boys:  Aeneas  his  Errours  (Book  III).    1661. 

Aeneas  his  Descent  into  Hell  (Book  VI).    1661. 

Sir  R.  Fanshaw  :  The  Fourth  Book  of  Virgill's  Aeneis.    1664. 

Dryden's  Miscellany  Poems:  1684-1709. 

1684  Part  I.    Part  of  Virgil's  Fourth  Georgick  ...  by  the 

Earl  of  Mulgrave. 

The  Praises  of  Italy  out  of  Virgil's  second  Georgic.  By 
Mr.  Chetwood. 

The  Entire  Episode  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus.  Trans- 
lated from  the  Fifth  and  Ninth  Books  of  Vhrgiro 
Aeneids,  by  Mr.  Dryden. 

Virgil's  Eclogues,  Translated  by  Several  Hands.  (Eel.  1, 
John  Caryll;  2,  Mr.  Tate  and  Mr.  Creech;  3,  Mr. 
Creech;  4,  Mr.  Dryden;  5,  Mr.  Duke;  6,  the  Earl 
of  Roscommon;  7,  Mr.  Adams;  8,  Mr.  Stafford  and 
Mr.  Chetwood;  9,  Mr.  Dryden;  10,  Mr.  Stafford. 
Also  translated  or  rather  imitated  in  the  Year  1666. 
By  Sir  William  Temple.) 

1685  Part  II.    The  Entire  Episode  of  Mezentius  and  Lausus 
...  By  Mr.  Dryden. 

The  Speech  of  Venus  to  Vulcan.    By  Mr.  Dryden. 
Part  of  Virgil's  Fourth  Georgick.    By  Mr.  Creech. 
The  Episode  of  the  Death  of  Camilla By  Mr.  Staf- 
ford. 

1693  Part  III.   Aeneas  his  Meeting  with  Dido  in  the  Elyzian 

Fields.  ...  By  Mr.  Wolseley. 
Amor  omnibus  idem  .  .  .    (Georg.  3. 209-285,  by  Dryden.) 
Part  of  Virgils  First  Georgick  ...  By  Henry  Sacheverell. 

1694  Part   IV.    A   Translation   of   all   of   Virgil's   Fourth 

Georgick,  except  the   Story  of  Aristaeus,  by  Mr. 
Jo.  Addison. 


'238  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  Passion  of  Dido  for  Aeneas  ...  By  S.  Godolphin  and 
E.  Waller.     (See  above.) 

1704  Part  V.  Milton's  Style  imitated  in  a  Translation  of  a 
Story  out  of  the  Third  Aeneid.  By  Mr.  Joseph 
Addison. 

1709    Part  VI.    The  Love  of  Callus  ...  By  J.  Trapp. 

The  Description  of  the  Prodigies  which  attended  the 
Death  of  Julius  Caesar  ...  By  J.  Trapp. 

Thomas  Fletcher:  Poems  on  Several  Occasions  and  Transla- 
tions; wherein  the  First  and  Second  Books  of  Virgil's  Aeneids 
are  attempted  into  English.     1692. 

John  Lewkenor:  Metellus's  Three  Dialogues  .  .  .The  Third  is  of 
Translations;  with  Virgil's  Dido  and  Aeneas.    1694. 

John  Dryden:  The  Works  of  Virgil:  containing  his  Pastorals, 
Georgics,  and  Aeneis.    Translated  into  English  verse.    1 697.** 

.L.  Milbourne:  The  First  Book  of  Virgil's  Ceorgics  made  English. 


J.  B.:  The  Young  Lover's  Guide.    As  also  the  Sixth  Aenaeid,  and 

Fourth  Eclogue  of  Virgil.    1699. 
Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckinghamshire:    Part  of  the  Story  of 

Orpheus.     (?) 
Sir  Charles  Sedley:  The  Fourth  Book  of  Virgil.     (Georgics  4)  (?) 
Chetwood:    The   Second   Georgic.     (?)    (See   above,    Dryden's 

Miscellany,  Pt.  I) 
Richard,  Earl  of  Lauderdale:  The  Works  of  Virgil.    1708-9  (?), 

1700  (?) 
(?)    The  Golden  Age.    1703. 
N.  Brady:  Virgil's  Aeneis.     1716,  1717. 
Wm.  Hamilton:  The  Episode  of  Lausus  and  Mezentius.    1719. 

The  Corycian  Swain.     (?) 
Mr.    Sherbourne:     The    Fourth    Book    of    Virgil's    Aeneid. 

1723. 
W.  Benson:  Virgil's  Husbandry.    (Georg.  1)     1725. 
J.  Trapp:  The  Aeneb  of  Virgil.     1718-20. 

The  Works  of  Virgil.     1731.** 
J.  Theobald  :  The  second  Book  of  Virgil's  Aeneid.    1736. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  239 

(?)  An  Introduction  of  the  ancient  Greek  and  Latin  measures 
into  British  Poetry;  attempted  in  ...  a  Translation  of 
Virgil's  first  Eclogue  (and)  fourth  Eclogue.    1737. 

A.  Strahan:   The  First  Aeneid.     1739.    Another  ed.  with  Trans- 

lation of  the  First  Eclogue  by  F.  Atterbury.     1767. 
J.  H. :  The  second  book  of  Virgil's  Aeneis.     1740. 
J.  Hamilton:    Virgil's  Pastorals.     1742. 

J.  Martyn:  The  Georgicks  of  Virgil,  with  an  EngUsh  translation 
and  notes.     1741. 

The  BucoUcks  of  Virgil,  with  an  English  translation  and 
notes.     1749. 
(?)    The  Georgics  of  Virgil.     (Georg.  1)     1750. 
Christopher  Pitt  and  Joseph  Warton:  The  Works  of  Virgil  in 

Latin  and  English  .  .  .  The  Aeneid  translated  by  C.  Pitt. 

The  Eclogues  and  Georgics,  with  notes  on  the  whole,  by  J. 

Warton.     1753.** 
R.  Andrews:  The  Works  of  Virgil  Enghshed.    1766. 
T.  Nevile:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1767. 

B.  Newburgh:  A  Translation  of  Some  Parts  of  Virgil's  Georgics. 

1769. 

Walter  Harte:  The  Episode  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice.     (?) 

Edward  BuRNABY  Greene:  The  Ceiris  of  Virgil.    1780. 

W.Mills:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1780. 

J.  Tytler:  The  four  first  Eclogues.    1781. 

J.Morrison:  The  Second  Book  of  Virgil's  Aeneid.  1787.  (2nd 
ed.) 

W.  H.  Melmoth:   The  Whole  Genuine  Works  of  Vu-gil.    (Dry- 
den's  translation,  "revised  and  improved.")     1790  (?) 
esBeresford:  The  Aeneid.    1794. 

Hon.  P.  C.  Smythe:  The  Episode  of  Aristaeus.    1795. 

C.Alexander:  The  Works  of  Virgil.     1796. 

W.  Sotheby:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1800. 

Willla^  Cowper:  The  Moretum.    1803. 

L.  M.  Sargent:  The  Culex  of  Virgil.     1807.* 

J.  R.Dease:  The  Georgics.     1808. 

W.  Stawell:  The  Georgics.    1808. 


240  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

C.  Boyd:  Virgirs  Georgics,  with  the  First,  Fourth,  Sixth  and  Tenth 

Eclogues.    1808. 
Davidson:  The  Works  of  Virgil  translated  into  English  prose. 

1810. 
J.  Penn:  The  Fourth  Eclogue.    1810. 
(?)     The  Sixth  Book  of  the  Aeneis  of  Virgil.     1814. 
William  Cowper:  The  Aeneid,  Book  VIII,  11.  18  ff.    1815. 

F.  Wrangham:  Virgil^s  Bucolics.    1815. 

William  Wordsworth:  Translation  of  a  Part  of  the  First  Book 

of  the  Aeneid.    1816. 
C.  Symmons:  The  Aeneis.    1817. 
Percy  Bysshe  Shelley:  The  Tenth  Eclogue,  w.  1-26.    (?)   (Pub. 

1870.) 
J.  Ring:  A  Translation  of  the  Works  of  Virgil:  partly  original, 

and  partly  altered  from  Dryden  and  Pitt.    1820. 
R.  Hoblyn:    a  Translation  of  the  First  Book  of  the  Georgics. 

1825. 
A.  W.  Walus:  Select  Passages  from  the  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1833. 
I.  Butt:  The  Georgics,  translated  into  English  Prose.    1834. 
J.  Blundell:   Hexametrical  Experiments;   or  a  version  of  four 

of  Virgil's  Pastorals.    1838. 
J.M.King:  The  Georgicks.    1843. 
J.  Henry:  The  Aeneis,  Books  I  and  II.    1845. 
W.  Sewell:  The  Georgics.    1846. 
J.  M.  King:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1847. 
W.  H.  Bathurst:  The  Georgics.    1849. 
R.  and  C.  R.  Kennedy:  The  Works  of  Virgil.    1849. 
E.  Ck)BB0LD:  The  Georgics  of  Vh-gil.    1852. 

G.  B.  Wheeler:  The  Works  of  Virgil.    1852. 

W.  Sewell:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil,  literally  and  rhythmically 
translated.     1854. 

R.  C.  Singleton  :  The  Works  of  Virgil.    1855-59. 

C.  R.  Honey:  A  Translation  into  English  Verse  of  VirgiPs  Fourth 
Georgic.    1859. 

R.  D.  Blackmore:  The  Farm  and  Fruit  of  Old;  a  Translation  in 
verse  of  the  First  and  Second  Georgics  of  Virgil.  By  a  Market- 
Gardener.    1862. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  241 

J.  Miller:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1863. 

W.  Grist:  The  Aeneid.    Book  I.    1864. 

J.  B.  Rose:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1865. 

J.  Conington:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil,  translated  into  English  verse. 

1866.** 
J.  B.  Rose:  The  Eclogues  and  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1866. 
E.  F.  Taylor:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    Books  I  and  II.    1867. 
C.  S.  Calverley:  The  Idylls  of  Theocritus  and  the  Eclogues  of 

Virgil.    1868. 
T.  H.  NoYEs:  The  Eclogues  of  Virgil.    1868. 
R.  M.  Millington:   The  Bucolics  or  Eclogues  of  Virgil,  trans- 
lated into  heroic  verse.    1870. 

A  Translation  of  Virgil's  Eclogues  into  Rhythmic   Prose. 
1870. 

The  Story  of  Aristaeus  and  his  Bees.    1870. 

E.  E.  Middleton:  The  First  Two  Books  of  the  Aeneid.    1870. 

(?)  A  prose  Translation  of  Virgil's  Eclogues  and  Georgics,  by  an 
Oxford  Graduate.    1870. 

R.  D.  Blackmore:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil.    1871. 

J.  M.  King:  The  Georgics  of  Virgil  in  four  Books.  1871.  (Dif- 
ferent from  the  1843  translation.) 

J.  Lonsdale  and  S.  Lee:  The  Works  of  Virgil.  1871.  (Globe 
ed.) 

G.  K.  RiCKARDs:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil,  Books  I-VI.    1871. 

C.  P.  Cranch:  The  Aeneid.    1872.*  ** 

F.  D.  Morice:  The  Bee.    Virgil's  Fourth  Georgic.    1872. 

Lord  Ravensworth:    The  Aeneid  of  Virgil,   Books  VII-XII. 

1872. 
T.  Clayton:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil,  Books  I-VI.    1873. 
William  Morris:  The  Aeneids  of  Virgil.    1875.** 
E.  Harper:  The  Story  of  Troy.    (Aen.  1  and  2.)     1876. 
M.  P.  W.  Boulton:  Translation  of  the  Sixth  Book  of  Virgil's 

Aeneid.     1877. 
W.  J.  Thornhill:  The  Passion  of  Dido.    1878. 

The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1878. 
H.  H.  Pierce:  A  Rhythmic  Prose  Translation  of  Virgil's  Aeneid. 

1879.* 


242  BIBUOGRAPHY 

S.  P.  Reed:  Virgil's  Georgics,  Book  IV.    1879. 

A.  Malet:  The  Aeneid.     1880. 
H.W.Preston:  The  Georgics  of  Vergil.     1881.* 
J.  Rhoades:  The  Georgics.     1881. 

T.  S.  Burt:  The  Aeneid,  Georgics  and  Eclogues  of  Vu-gil  ...  to- 
gether with  other  of  his  poems;  to  which  are  appended 
Maphaeus  Vegius'  Book  XIII,  etc.    1883. 

Samuel  Palmer:  Enghsh  Version  of  the  Eclogues.    1883. 

"Eta"  (W.  Cunningham):  Virgil's  Fh^t  Pastoral:  or,  the  Exiles 
of  Mantua.    1884. 

B.  H.  Hampden-Jones:  Vergil's  Aeneid,  Books  IX  and  X.    1884. 
J.  W.  Moore  :  The  Sixth  Book  of  the  Aeneid.     1884. 

J.  A.  Wilstach  :  The  Works  of  Virgil.     1884.* 

E.  J.  L.  Scott:  The  Eclogues  of  Virgil.     1884. 

H.  Hailstone:  Virgil's  Aeneid,  II.    1886. 

W.  J.  Thornhill:  The  Aeneid.    1886. 

Sir  Charles  Bowen  :  Virgil  in  English  Verse.  Eclogues  and  Aeneid, 

I-VI.    1887. 
A.  A.  I.  Nesbitt:  Vergil:  Aeneid.    (In  Tutorial  Series.)    1887,  etc. 
Oliver  Crane:  Virgil's  Aeneid.    1888.* 
"  Delta  " :  The  First  Book  of  the  Aeneid.    1888. 
Mary   E.   Burt:    Bees.    A   Study   from   Vergil.    Revised   and 

adapted  from  Davidson's  Translation.    1889.* 
H.  W.  Hunting:  Virgil's  Aeneid,  IV,  V.    1889. 
J.  W.  Mackail:  The  Eclogues  and  Georgics.    1889.** 
J.  Perkins:  Vu-gil's  Aeneid,  Books  IV  and  V.     1889. 
H.  T.  Dufton:   a  Prose  Translation  of  the  Second  Book  of  the 

Aeneid.     1890. 
H.  W.  Hunting:  Aeneid  VI.     1891. 
W.  Farrar:  Vergil's  Aeneid,  Book  VI.     1893. 
A.  H.  Bryce:  The  Works  of  Virgil.     1894. 

Sir  Theodore  Martin:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil,  Books  I-VI.     1896. 
Rt.  Hon.  Sir  G.  0.  Morgan:  The  Eclogues  of  Virgil.    1897. 
J.  W.  Mackail:  The  Eclogues,  done  into  English  Prose.     1899.** 
(?)    The  First  Book  of  Virgil's  Aeneis.     (?) 
Henry  Smith  Wright:  The  Aeneid.    1903-1908. 
J.  W.  Mackail:  The  Georgics.    1904.*  ** 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  243 

James  Rhoades:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1906. 

John  Conington:   The  Poems  of  Virgil,  translated  into  English 

Prose.     1907.** 
R,  S.  Conway:  The  Fourth  Eclogue,  in  Virgil's  Messianic  Eclogue. 

1907. 

D.  E.  Seligman:  The  Aeneid,  Book  VI.     1907. 

E.  Fairfax  Taylor:   The  Aeneid  translated  into  Enghsh  verse. 

1907.     (Everyman's  Library.) 
John  Jackson:  Virgil.    1908. 
J.  W.  Mackail:  The  Aeneid.     1908.** 
Theodore  C.  Williams:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1908.* 
Harlan  Hoge  Ballard:  The  Aeneid  of  Virgil.     1911.* 
Theodore  C.  Williams:  The  Georgics  and  Eclogues.    1915.* 
Robert  Bridges:  Ibant  Obscuri:  an  Experiment  in  the  Classical 

Hexameter.    1916. 
Joseph  J.  Mooney:  The  Minor  Poems  of  Virgil.    1916. 

BURLESQUES,  PARODIES  AND  IMITATIONS 

Charles   Cotton:    Scarronides,   or  Virgil  Travestie.    (Aen.    1 

and  4.)  1670.** 
John  Phillips:   Maronides,  or  Virgil  Travesty,  the  Fifth  Book. 

1672. 

Maronides,  or  Virgil  Travesty.  (Book  VI.)     1673. 
(?)     Cataplus,  or  Aeneas  his  Descent  to  Hell.     1672. 
(?)    The  Golden  Age  Restored.     (In  Dryden's  Miscellany  PoemSy     v^ 

Part  II.)     1685. 
(?)    The  Irish  Hudibras,  or  FingaHan  Prince:    taken  from  the 

Sixth  Book  of  Virgil's  "Aeneids,"  and  adjusted  to  the  present 

State  of  Affairs.    1689. 
(?)    The  History  of  the  Famous  .  .  .  Love,  between  a  fair,  noble 

Parisian  Lady,  and  a  beautiful  young  Singing-Man.     1692. 
(?)    The  Tryall  of  Skill  between  Squire  Walsingham  and  Mother 

Osborne.    An   Eclogue   in   imitation   of   Virgil's   Palaemon. 

1734. 
(?)    Mother  Gin.    A  Tragi-Comical  Eclogue;  being  a  paraphras- 

tical  imitation  of  the  Daphnis  of  Virgil.     1737. 


244  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

I.  Hallam:  The  Cocker:  a  poem.    In  Imitation  of  Virgil's  third 

Georgic.    1742. 
John  Ellis:  The  Canto  added  by  Maphaeus  to  Virgil's  Twelve 

Books  of  Aeneas,   from  the  original  Bombastic,  done  into 

English  Hudibrastic;  with  notes  beneath,  and  Latin  text  in 

every  other  page  annext.    1758. 
(?)    The  Story  of  Aeneas  and  Dido  Burlesqued.     1774.* 
(?)    An  Elegy  in  a  Riding-House.    In  Imitation  of  Virgil's  First 

Pastoral.    Latin  and  English.    1778. 
(?)    The  Patriots,  a  Political  Eclogue.     (A  Parody  of  Virgil's 

first  Eclogue.)    1796. 
G.  Daniel:  Virgil  in  London,  or  Town  Eclogues.    1814. 
(?)    An  Idyll  on  the  Battle.     (In  Blackwood's  Edinburgh  Mag.) 

1823. 
Thomas    Moore:    The    Milling-Match    between    Entellus    and 

Dares.    (?) 
(?)    A  Kerry,  Pastoral,  in  imitation  of  the  First  Eclogue  of  Virgil. 

1843.     (Reprint.) 
(?)    The  Siege  of  Oxford.    Fragments  from  the  Second  Book  of 

the  "Nova  Aeneis."    1852. 
(?)    The  Death  of  the  Sea-Serpent,  by  PubUus  Jonathan  Virgiliua 

Jefferson  Smith.     (In  Punch.)     1852. 
F.  C.  Burnand:  Dido.    (A  dramatic  burlesque.)    1860. 
(?)    A  Free  and  Independent  Translation  of  the  First  and  Fourth 

Books  of  the  Aeneid  of  Virgil.    1870.* 
(?)    The  Georgics  of  Bacchicles.    In  Three  Books.    (?) 


INDEX 


Addison,    Joseph,    137-138,    139, 

141,  144,  150,  151,  154,  159, 

160. 
Aelfric,  30. 
Aeneas  Sylvius,  70. 
Aesop,  73. 

Agricola,  Johann,  71. 
Akenside,  Mark,  180-181,  193. 
Alamanni,  Luigi,  78,  99. 
Alcuin,  23,  26-27. 
Aldhelm,  24-25. 
Alexander,  Sir  William,  133. 
Alfred,  27. 
Anacreon,  126. 
d'Andeli,  Henri,  67,  69,  70. 
Anglo-Saxon    vernacular    poetry, 

27. 
Anti-Jacobin,  194. 
Antonio  and  MeUida,  122. 
Areopagus,  The,  91. 
Ariosto,  78,  111,  114n,  138,  141. 
Aristotle,  10,  67,  68,  69,  74,  75, 

137,  206. 
Armstrong,  John,  193. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  212,  213,  216- 

217. 
Ascham,  Roger,  72,  73,  74. 
Augustine,  Saint,  170. 
Ausonius,  63n. 

Bacon,  Francis,  125. 

Baebius  ItaUcus  (Pindar  the  The- 

ban),  18n. 
Baif,  Jean  Antoine  de,  79,  99. 
Barclay,  Alexander,  101. 


Barford,  Mr.,  174n. 

Bamfield,  Richard,  106. 

de  Barn,  Gerald,  70. 

Basse,  William,  106. 

BatOe  of  the  Seven  Arts,  The,  67, 69. 

Beattie,  James,  200. 

Bede,  25-26. 

Benoit  de  Saint-Maure,  18,  61. 

Beowulf,  27-30. 

Bernard  of  Chartres,  17,  67. 

Blacklock,  Alexander,  174n. 

Blackmore,  Sir  Richard,  128,  145- 

146,  160. 
Boccaccio,  43,  62,  63,  70,  76,  100, 

130. 
Boethius,  55n,  69. 
Boiardo,  Matteo  Maria,  78. 
Boileau,  Nicholas,  10, 181. 
Bowyer,  Mr.,  165. 
Brathwaite,  Richard,  106. 
Broome,  WiUiam,  174n. 
Browne,  William,  106. 
Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett,  217. 
Browning,  Robert,  213,  217-219, 

223. 
Bryskett,  Lodowick,  104. 
Burke,  Edmund,  7,  159-160. 
Burley,  Walter,  20,  22. 
Bume-Jones,  Edward,  220. 
Butler,  Samuel,  146. 
Byron,  Lord,  198,  199. 

Caesar,  73. 
Calpumius  Siculus,  1. 
Cambridge,  74. 


245 


246 


INDEX 


Cambridge,  Richard  Owen,  176- 
178. 

Camden,  William,  129. 

Carteret,  John,  214. 

Cato,  66,  68,  73. 

Catullus,  126,  201,  202,  204,  205. 

Caxton,  William,  9,  20,  47,  62-65, 
80,  81,  82. 

Centos,  14. 

Chamberlayne,  WiUiam,  132. 

Chapman,  George,  98,  161,  223. 

Chatham,  Earl  of,  214. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  8,  9, 13, 16,  23, 
34,  38,  39-59,  72,  82,  95,  116, 
125,  148,  162,  220,  222.  Book 
of  the  Duchess,  40.  Canter- 
bury Tales,  39,  41.  Hous  of 
Fame,  41,  42-59.  Legend  of 
Good  Women,  40,  41,  42,  43- 
54.  Troilus  and  Criseyde, 
40n,  42,  57,  58. 

Cheke,  John,  72. 

Chetwood,  Wilham,  154. 

Chrysoloras,  Manuel,  70. 
^  Churchill,  Charles,  174  and  note. 

Cicero,  31,  69,  70,  71,  73,  75,  76, 
77,  124,  134. 

Cinthio,  79. 

Claudian,  58. 

Clough,  Arthur  Hugh,  217. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor,  121, 
198,  219. 

Colet,  John,  71. 

CoUins,  Churton,  225,  230. 
"^ColUns,  Wilham,  174n,  198. 

Columella,  1. 

Congreve,  WiUiam,  174n. 

Conington,  John,  219. 

Conrad  of  Querfurt,  21,  33. 

Cotton,  Charles,  146-147. 

Cotton,  Sir  Robert,  129. 


Cowley,  Abraham,  126-127,  131, 
133-137,  142n,  144,  154. 
N>)wper,   Wilham,   194r-196,   197, 

198,  200,  202,  219. 
— Crabbe,  George,  199. 
Cranch,  C.  P.,  219. 
Crashaw,  Richard,  125,  126. 
Cunningham,  John,  174n. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  123,  129,  130. 
Dante,   13,  14-15,  17,  61n,  100, 

114n,  206. 
Dares  Phrygius,  9,  18,  40,  57,  58, 

61,  66,  79,  97,  131. 
Darwin,  Erasmus,  194. 
Davenant,  Sir  WiUiam,  132. 
Denham,  Sir  John,  137,  151-152, 

154. 
Dennis,  John,  146,  160. 
Dickens,  Charles,  215. 
Dictys  the  Cretan,  18,  61. 
Didactic  poetry,  10,  179-196,  198. 

199. 
Dido  plays,  79,  116-118. 
Dodsley,  Robert,  193. 
Dolce,  Lodovico,  79,  116. 
Dolopathos,  16,  20. 
Donatus,  15,  16,  231. 
Don  Quixote,  177. 
Dome,  John,  75. 
Douglas,  Gavin,  9,  17,  20,  65,  80- 

86,  87,  89,  93,  121,  151. 
Drayton,  Michael,  106,  123,  129, 

130-131. 
Drummond,  WiUiam,  126. 
Dryden,  John,  10,  87,  132,  148, 

150,   152-158,   159,   160-162, 

165,  166,  177.     Virgil,  152- 

158.    Annus  MirabUis,  160- 

162. 
^  Dyer,  John,  181,193. 


INDEX 


247 


Eliot,  George,  215. 

Elyot,  Sir  Thomas,  73. 

Eneit,  19. 

Eneydos,  19,  47,  62-65,  80. 

Ennius,  207. 

Epic,  1,  9,  10,  109-113,  128-146, 
149.  In  France,  132.  Re- 
ligious epic,  132,  133-145. 

Epirota,  15. 

Erasmus,  Desiderius,  71,  72. 

Euripides,  5,  74,  202. 

Evelyn,  John,  35. 

da  Feltre,  Vittorino,  70. 
Fenton,  Elijah,  174n. 
Fielding,  Henry,  177,  198. 
Fletcher,  Giles,  133. 
Fletcher,  Phineas,   106-108,   125, 

133. 
Fontenelle,  Bernard  le  Bovier  de, 

165.    . 
Fox,  Charles,  214. 
Frischlin,  Nikodemus,  79. 
^  Fulgentius,  Fabius  Planciades,  17, 

31,  92. 

Gager,  William,  117. 

Gallery  of  Gallant  Inventions,  A,  95. 

Garland,  John,  68,  70. 

Garth,  Samuel,  180. 

Gawain  and  the  Greene  Knight,  39, 

60-61. 
^Gay,  John,  173,  174n,  177,  179. 
Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  37. 
Gervase  of  Tilbury,  21,  33. 
Gesta  Romanorum,  36. 
Gildas,  24. 

Gladstone,  William,  214,  215. 
Glover,  Samuel,  149,  160. 
Googe,  Barnabe,  101. 
Gower,  John,  16,  23,  34-35,  39,  40, 

54,  59-60,  93. 


Grainger,  James,  193. 
^Gray,  Thomas,  198. 
^  Green,  Matthew,  193. 

Grimoald,  Nicholas,  94,  99. 

Grocyn,  WiUiam,  71. 

Guarini,  Giovanni  Battista,  70. 

Guido  delle  Colonne,  18,  67,  61. 

Hall,  Edward,  129. 

Halhwell,  Edward,  116. 

Harington,  Sir  John,  151. 

Harvey,  Gabriel,  104,  111. 

Harvey,  William,  125. 

Hawes,  Stephen,  16,  23,  59,  92. 

Hegius,  71. 

Heinsius,  Daniel  and  Nikolaae, 
125. 

Herrick,  Robert,  126. 

Heywood,  Thomas,  119. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  132. 

Hoccleve,  Thomas,  60. 

Hogarth,  WiUiam,  177. 

Holinshed,  Raphael,  129. 

Homer,  3,  4,  5,  18,  27,  57,  58,  77, 
78,  111,  113,  123,  128,  134, 
135,  136,  138,  139,  140,  144, 
145,  149,  152,  160,  161,  175, 
177,  197,  200,  202,  205,  207, 
213,  217,  232. 

Hoole,  Charles,  73. 

Horace,  28,  31,  66,  73,  98, 112, 126, 
134,  138,  149,  150,  188,  201, 
220, 232. 

Isaiah,  170, 171, 188. 

Jacke  JugeUr,  122. 
^  Jago,  Richard,  173,  174n. 
"  ^  Jenyns,  Soame,  193. 

Jerome,  23,  63n. 

Jodelle,  fitienne,  79,  116. 


248 


INDEX 


X 


John  of  Salisbury,  17,  26n,  30-32, 

67,  68,  70,  92. 
Johnson,  Samuel,  145,  160,  171, 

172,  233. 

Jonson,  Ben,  98-99,  120,  122-123, 

124,  125,  126,  129,  151. 
Joseph  of  Exeter,  19,  61. 
Josephus,  58. 
Joubert,  Joseph,  216,  217. 
Justin,  63n. 
Juvenal,  75. 

Keats,  John,  198n. 
Kennedy,  R.  and  C.  R.,  219. 
Kirchmayer,  79. 
Knaustius,  79. 
K)maston,  Sir  Francis,  125. 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  11,  12, 
166,  188,  200-211,  212,  227, 
230.  Imaginary  Conversa- 
tions, 201-207.  GeHr,  207- 
210.    Latin  poems,  211. 

Lang,  Andrew,  215-216,  221,  224, 
227. 

von  Lange,  71. 

Lauderdale,  Earl  of,  152,  154. 

Layamon,  37. 

Lily,  William,  71,  72. 

Linacre,  Thomas,  71. 

Livy,  75. 

"L.  M.  W.  M.,  Right  Honorable," 

173,  174n. 
Lodge,  Thomas,  106. 
Logan,  John,  174n. 

Loves  of  the  Triangles,  The,  194, 

198. 
Lowe,  Robert,  214,  215. 
Lowell,  James  Russell,  129. 
Lucan,  31,  58,  64n,  75,  130. 
Lucretius,  3,  6,  191,  202,  204,  205, 

213. 


Lydgate,  John,  16,  61-62,  93. 
Lufe  of  VirgUius,  The,  20,  22,  92, 

98. 
Lyly,  John,  72. 
Lyrical  Ballads,  198. 
Lyttelton,  Lord,  164,  174n,  181, 

187. 

Macaulay,    Thomas    Babington, 

216. 
Mackail,  J.  W.,  206-207,  219,  221. 
Mallet,  David,  193. 
Mantuan,  76,  78,  101,  102,  105, 

106,  108. 
Map,  Walter,  36. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  23,  79,  92, 

117-118. 
Marot,  Clement,  79,  100,  102. 
Marston,  John,  122. 
Mason,  WUUam,  174n,  193,  194, 

198. 
Meres,  Francis,  123, 129. 
Merlin,  23,  34,  35. 
Miller,  Joaquin,  218. 
Milton,  John,  7,  10,  37,  108-109, 

127-128,  131,   132,  137-145, 

168,     169,     208,     229,     234. 

Lycidas,  108-109, 127.  Convus, 

109.     Paradise      Lost,     128, 

137-143,   145,  160.   Paradise 

Regained,  143-144. 
Mock-epic,  10,  14^147,  175-178, 

198. 
Molza,  80,  86. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  71. 
Morris,  William,  89,  217,  218-224. 

Manuscript    of   the    Aeneid, 

220.         Translation    of    the 

Aeneid,  220-224. 
Mulgrave,  Earl  of,  154. 
Mustard,  W.  P.,  230. 


INDEX 


249 


Naevius,  207. 

Nash,  Thomas,  79,  117-118. 

Naude,  Gabriel,  16. 

Neckam,  Alexander,  22,  32-33,  70. 

Nennius,  24,  37. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  125. 

Nicolas  of  Clemangis,  71. 

bgUby,  John,  152. 

Ovid,  1,  5,  31,  40,  43,  45,  54,  55, 
58,  60,  68,  69,  71,  73,  75,  98, 
120,  127,  128,  134,  161,  170, 
202,  213. 

Oxford,  68-69,  74-75. 

Pastoral,  10,  100-109,  127,  164- 
174,  199. 

Paul,  Herbert,  214n. 

Peele,  George,  106,  117. 

Petrarch,  9,  70,  74,  76-77,  78, 
100. 

Phaer,  Thomas,  80,  87,  88-90, 
.  151,  223. 

Philips,  Ambrose,  172,  174n. 

Philips,  John,  180. 

Pilatus,  70. 

Pitt,  Christopher,  158-169. 

Pitt,  WiUiam,  214. 

Plautus,  74,  75. 

Pliny,  75. 

Politian,  70,  78. 

Pomfret,  John,  174n. 

Pope,  Alexander,  10,  142n,  144, 
148,  162,  163-172,  174-176, 
177,  179,  181,  198,  199,  204. 
Alcander,  164.  Pastorals, 
164^169,  170.  Discourse  on 
Pastoral  Poetry,  165.  Wind- 
sor Forest,  170.  Messiah, 
170-172.  Thebaid,  174-175. 
Dundad,  175,  199.  Rape  of 
the  Lock,  175-176,  198. 


Prior,  Matthew,  174n. 
Prop)ertius,  77. 
Pulci,  Luigi,  78. 
Pulteney,  WiUiam,  214. 

Quarles,  Francis,  106. 
QuintiUan,  75. 

Racine,  Jean  Baptiste,  216,  217. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  111,  112. 
^Ramsay,  Allan,  173,  174n. 
Raphael,  204. 
Rapin,  165. 
Ritwise,  John,  116. 
Robinson,  Nicholas,  117. 
Rogers,  Samuel,  199. 
Roman  de  la  Rose,  114. 
Roman  de  Troie,  18. 
Romans  d' Eneas,  19,  40,  43,  47,  52, 

62,  220. 
Ronsard,  Pierre  de,  79. 
Roscommon,  Earl  of,  151,  154. 
Rossetti,    Christina    and    Dante 

Gabriel,  217. 
Rucellai,  Giovanni,  78,  99. 
Rjrmer,  Thomas,  137. 

Sabie,  Francis,  106. 

Sackville,  Thomas,  95-97,  110. 

SaUust,  73,  75. 

Salvaiio  Romae,  22,  23,  33-35,  62, 

82n. 
Sannazaro,  Jacopo,  76,  78,   100, 

102,  108. 
Scahger,  Julius  Caesar,  79. 
Scarron,  Paul,  146. 
Scott,  John,  174n. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  86. 
Scriblerus,  Martinus,  175n,  176- 

178. 


250 


INDEX 


Sedley,  Sir  Charles,  151. 

Selden,  John,  125. 

Selling,  William  Tilly  of,  71. 

Seneca,  73,  117. 

Servius,  16. 

Seven  Sages,  The,  23,  34. 

Shakespeare,    William,    98,    120- 

122. 
Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe,  198,  213, 

V  219. 

^  Shenstone,  William,  173,  174n. 
Sidney,  Sir  PhiUp,  68,  93,  101. 

V  Silius  Itahcus,  1. 
Smart,  Christopher,  193. 

^  SomerviUe,  WiUiam,  177, 181, 193,  ^• 
194. 
Sophocles,  74. 


•v 


Southey,  Robert,  202,  208. 

Spectator,  The,  137,  138,  150. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  9,  17,  35,  93, 
96n,  100-105,  107,  108,  110- 
116,  123,  125,  128,  131,  138, 
141,  165,  172,  181,  234. 
Shepheardes  Calender,  101- 
105.  ' Faerie  Queene,  nO-llQ. 

Stanyhurst,  Richard,  90-91. 

Statius,  58,  170,  174. 

Steele,  Sir  Richard,  172. 

Stow,  John,  129. 

Strode,  Ralph,  40. 

Suetonius,  75. 

Surrey,  Earl  of,  80,  8&-88,  121, 
151. 

Swift,  Jonathan,  67,  160,  173, 
174n,  177,  179,  191. 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles, 
200,  213,  217. 


Tasso,  Torquato,  78-79,  111. 
Temple,  Sir  William,  151. 


V 


Tennyson,  Alfred,  7,  11,  12,  107n, 
144,  166,  213,  224-233,  234. 
"The  Enghsh  VergU,"  224- 
225,233.  To  Fir^i,  226-229, 
230,  233.  The  Daisy,  229. 
Idylk  of  the  King,  230-231. 
Will,  231-232. 

Terence,  71,  72,  73,  74,  75. 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace, 
215. 

Theocritus,  2,  101,  102,  103,  109, 
165,  167,  172,  174,  197,  201, 
204,  213. 

Thompson,  WiUiam,  174n,  193. 

Thomson,  James,  10,  162,  164, 
179-193,  194,  195,  198.  The 
Seasons,  181-192,  198. 

Tickell,  Thomas,  142n,  193. 

"Tityre-tu's,"  The,  125. 

Tonson,  Jacob,  164. 

TotteVs  Miscellany,  94. 

Trapp,  Joseph,  158. 

Turbervile,  George,  63n,  94. 

Tusser,  Thomas,  99. 

Twyne,  Thomas,  87,  89. 

Tyndale,  WiUiam,  72. 

Valerius  Flaccus,  1. 

Valerius  Maximus,  75. 

Vegius,  Maphaeus,  65,  70,  77-78, 
80,  89. 

Vergil:  Life  and  work,  1-7. 
Style,  6,  7.  In  the  Middle 
Ages,  8,  13-38;  grammarian, 
8,  15;  rhetorician,  8,  16; 
prophet  of  Christ,  8,  16,  17, 
83,  170;  moralist  and  writer 
of  aUegory,  16-17,  31-32,  77, 
83,  92-93;  writer  of  romance, 
8, 18-20;  magician,  8, 16,  20- 
23,   32-36,   59,  92.     In  the 


INDEX 


251 


fifteenth  century,  8,  9,  39-65. 
And  humanism,  9,  66-91;  in 
education,  66-76;  in  litera- 
ture, 76-91.  In  the  Renais- 
sance, 9,  92-123;  in  drama, 
116-123.  In  the  seventeenth 
century,  9,  124-147;  educa- 
tion, 124-125;  lyric  poets, 
125-127;  epic  poets,  128-146; 
parodies,  146-147.  In  the 
pseudo-classic  period,  10, 148- 
196.  In  the  Romantic  period, 
11,  197-211,  212.  In  the 
Victorian  period,  11,  12,  212- 
234;  in  oratory,  214-215;  in 
prose,  215-217.  Transla- 
tions, 80-91,  150-159,  219- 
224,  229;  list  of  translations, 
burlesques,  parodies,  and  imi- 
tations, 238-246. 

Vergil's  pillar  of  tinned  iron,  57- 
59,  148. 

Vida,  Marco  Girolamo,  78,  79,  95. 

Voltaire,  153. 

Vossius,  Gerardus  Johannes,  125. 


WaUer,  Edmund,  124,  151,  154. 
Walpole,  Sir  Robert,  214. 
Walsh,  William,  165,  173,  174n. 
WaUhariuSf  14n. 
Warner,   Wilham,   61n,   63n,   97, 

123,  129-130,  131. 
Warton,    Joseph,    158-159,    165, 

199. 
Warton,  Thomas,  174n. 
Webbe,  WiUiam,  88. 
Wessel,  71. 

Whitehead,  Paul,  177. 
Wilkie,   WiUiam,    149,   160,   197, 

198. 
Wilham  of  Malmesbury,  36. 
Wimpfeling,  71. 
Wither,  WiUiam,  106. 
Wolsey,  Cardinal,  72,  116. 
Wordsworth,   WiUiam,   194,  200, 

219. 
Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  94,  95. 
Wycherley,  William,  165. 

Yeats,  WiUiam  Butler,  233. 
Young,  Thomas,  159. 


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